


I Love You Like An Alcoholic

by CactusBread



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol/Alcoholism, Angst, Drugs, Incest, M/M, More angst, Morty goes back to therapy, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rick does his best and it's significantly worse than everybody else's best, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, but only kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:04:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CactusBread/pseuds/CactusBread
Summary: Morty gets drunk and kisses Rick.And, for one of the first times in his life, Rick is unsure what to do.





	1. in vino veritas

Dr. Wong's office was exactly how Morty remembered it.

He felt nervous, alone in the waiting room, knowing his mother had already left to go finish packing with his father for their trip and wouldn't be picking him up until his appointment was over in approximately one hour. It had been solely his idea to come back, in fact he was prepared to beg his mother for permission. He'd cornered her in private, late into the evening when she was on the couch watching some reality TV show, relaxing with a glass of wine.

“Hey, uh, mom? Can we talk?”

She'd muted the TV and patted the seat next to her, looking at him curiously. “Sure, Morty? What is it?”

He sat down next to her and rubbed his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“Could I go see that therapist again? I mean, j-just me, not all of us, I know you didn't like her or anything, but I did, and I… you know, been through a lot, and…” he trailed off, seeing his mother's skeptical look.

“You really think seeing her would help? Whatever's… going on with you?”

“Well, yeah. Maybe. I won't know until I try.”

Beth looked off into nothing, and took a sip of her wine.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I'll set you up an appointment. But for now try to get some sleep.”

“Okay! Thanks, mom!”

“And Morty?”

“Yeah?”

“Actual sleep. I don't want you coming downstairs in the morning tired because you were playing video games until three again.”

And that was that. And now he was here.

He needed to be here, really. There were some things he couldn't tell his mom, or his dad, or Summer, or Jessica, who had started casually talking to him every now and then, which Morty assumed was what the beginning of a normal teenage friendship looked like. And especially not Rick.

Rick was why he had to be here in the first place.

Or, more specifically, his thoughts about Rick.

Like how he couldn't help but think about him all the time, where he was, what he was doing, what he was feeling. How every tiny, purely platonic look of affection Rick gave him made his heart race. How he wasn't sure if half the things he did or said anymore were because he wanted to, or because he was so desperate for another look of approval, another laugh, another casual ruffling of his hair. How he wanted more from Rick, even though Rick had already given him everything he realistically could.

Morty didn't want realistic anymore.

The office door opened, making Morty jump. Dr. Wong stood in the doorway.

“Morty? Please, come in.”

And so he went inside, and settled into the couch in front of her chair, looking around anxiously even though he'd already seen everything in the office before. His nerves were fried. Now that he was here, he wasn't even sure he had the guts to say what he needed to say out loud.

“So,” she began. “You're back.”

“I'm back,” he agreed, letting out a bubble of nervous laughter.

“How have you been doing?”

“Fine I guess,” he lied. “My parents got back together.”

“Is that good?”

“Yeah. They seem happy. For like the first time in a long time.”

“What else?”

Morty didn't say anything. All his instincts told him to keep talking about his parents, make up some story about how he's having a hard time adjusting to so much change in such a short time. But that's not why he came here.

“My… grandpa…”

She wrote something down on her clipboard. Morty was desperate to see it, but he couldn't make out her handwriting upside down. “Yes?” She urged him on.

“H-he… you, I've been…”

“Morty,” she said. Her voice was soothing. He liked the way she said his name, even though it was the same kind of tone you'd use to calm an animal. “I want you to know this is a safe place. The things we talk about in this room are confidential. I won't make you talk about anything you don't want to.”

Morty chewed on the inside of his cheek. This was it. Now or never.

“I think I have… a- a- a- crush on him?”

She stared at him. There wasn't any judgement in her eyes, surprisingly. She was waiting for him to continue.

“I don't know though. That's what's so hard about it. One minute we'll be on an adventure, and everything's fine, and we're just having a great time, and then the next, I'll be having these feelings, like I want him to hug me and tell me he's proud of me and stuff…”

“And that's not normal? To expect affection from your grandfather?”

“No, not really. Not for us. But it's less that and more that I want him all to myself sometimes. He'll hook up with other people on our adventures and I'll get jealous? And, any time he does… show affection… I want it to keep going? Like, haha, sure, you hugged me, or whatever, but what if I want more? I think about us kissing a lot. And it's weird. Super weird, right? I'm- I'm a total freak.”

“When do you recall first having these feelings?”

“I- I don't know. I guess forever? But it's only really recently it's been a problem.”

“Why do you see these feelings as a problem now?”

“Because it's weird. I can't concentrate on anything. And when I'm with him, I feel guilty, because I should just be a normal family member, but… I don't think that's ever been the case, actually. He's always singled me out. He used to tell me he was just using my brain waves because they counteracted his so he couldn't be detected by his enemies, but…”

She wrote something else on the clipboard. This time it was a paragraph. Morty crossed his legs, then uncrossed them.

“I just want to know what's wrong with me,” he said desperately. “How do I get this to stop?”

She didn't say anything, instead looked at him intently. And then, “Have you considered taking time apart? It sounds like you spend most of your time with your grandfather. Do you have many friends at school?”

“No,” Morty said bluntly. “I barely ever go to school. Rick's always pulling me out to go on adventures with him.”

“Every healthy relationship has boundaries, Morty. Do you want to go to school?”

“Yeah, I do, but I also don't want to stop hanging out with Rick…”

“Balance is possible, but you need to communicate your boundaries.”

“How do I do that?”

“By talking,” she said, and Morty did his best to not feel like she was insulting his intelligence. “Let him know you want to have relationships outside of his jurisdiction, and stand by it. I can see that you're a smart young man, and you deserve to live a happy life.”

Morty tried to remember the last time anyone called him smart, and drew a blank. Maybe that's just what therapists said when they wanted you to feel good about yourself.

“How about we meet again in a week and you can tell me how things went, does that sound good to you?”

“Yeah…” Morty agreed. He couldn't help but feel let down. He'd wanted this appointment to somehow solve all his problems. Maybe she'd tell him he was crazy, and tell him to stop hanging out with Rick, and then he'd say, ‘yeah, that makes sense’ and magically everything would be okay.

But Dr. Wong wasn't a miracle worker. 

 

X

 

“Jesus Christ, okay, we get it, there's leftovers in the fridge, money for take out if we want it, don't blow up the house. I- I- I'm your father, Beth, not some- some fucking stranger. I think I can handle this.” Rick took yet another swig from his flask and stared deadpan at his daughter and her… love interest. The five of them had been standing in the driveway saying every iteration of goodbye for ten minutes now.

Beth's eyes glared with a thousand different possible comebacks, but instead of saying any of them aloud, she slammed the trunk of the car shut and crawled into the passenger’s seat next to Jerry, who looked just as eager for them to leave as Rick.

“I'm really trusting you here, dad,” Beth said through the cracked window.

“Oh, jeez, yeah, thanks- thanks for that huge leap of faith there,” Rick said, pulling out his flask.

“Summer? Morty?” Beth called out, pointedly ignoring her father. “Be good. Please. No encouraging him.”

Then the car was leaving the driveway, and they were waving goodbye, and they were gone.

Morty, for his part, shuffled awkwardly next to Rick. “H-hey, can we, maybe, talk for a second?”

He was going to take Dr. Wong's advice. He was gonna lay down the law, tell him that he needed to be going to school and making friends, and that he actually meant it this time, and that he still wanted to hang out with Rick, but maybe a little less, and if Rick asked why he'd just say… well, he hadn't gotten that far, but he'd come up with something good.

But Rick's hand waved dismissively. “No time, Morty. We've got a party to throw, Morty! Ain't that right, Summer!?”

“Hell yeah, Grandpa Rick! And I'm just gonna take your advice this time and focus on getting wrecked,” Summer said excitedly.

“Me too,” Morty sighed, more to himself than them, and followed them obediently inside. 

 

X

 

Jack Daniels didn't taste so bad after the third swallow.

The party was in full swing now, the house full of both humans and aliens, some of which Morty recognized, many he didn't. He still felt alone though, lingering around crowds of people here and there, none of which he felt actually a part of even though no one else acted as though he didn't belong there. So he swung around to the kitchen, grabbed an unattended bottle of whiskey, and decided, you know, fuck it. Fuck everything. If drinking is what made everyone else happy, there was a sure chance it would make him happy too. So he drank.

The first sip caught him off guard. For some reason, he hadn't expected it to burn the way it did, and he found himself gagging on the taste. The second pull was slightly better, now that he knew what he was in for, and it made his entire mouth tingle in a way that wasn't altogether unpleasant, if not entirely foreign. The third time, he kept the bottle to his lips for longer, just to see how much he could handle.

“Yeah, Morty! I knew you had it in you!” He heard Summer call from across the room as he took another drink straight from the bottle.

He could definitely feel it now. It crept up on him, starting with the burning down the back of his throat and making its way all the way down to his feet. Mostly he just felt warm.

Then an arm wrapped itself around Morty's shoulders and he nearly jumped out of his skin until he realized it was Rick. And then he wanted to crawl out of his skin with extreme prejudice when his heart began to race at the close contact. Rick smelled like booze and gasoline, and Morty wanted to lean into the touch. But he didn't.

“R-Rick?”

“You ever - URP - Morty, you ever listen to me play guitar?”

“A-a little bit? I guess? That one time with all the giant floating heads and we had to-”

“No Morty, you haven't, that time doesn't count, you- you- you haven't REALLY seen what I can do, hold on Morty, you've gotta see this.”

And then Rick was gone, and Morty was left alone again. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, but before he could make up his mind, Rick was back again, this time with a guitar. And he began to play.

It didn't take long for a small crowd to form around them, upon hearing Rick start to play. And Morty didn't blame them. The rhythm started off slow and melodic, but quickly sped up to an almost impossible pace. It was loud and raw and oddly professional, and Morty found himself almost unable to breathe. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Rick's fingers, long and bony and moving along the neck of the guitar as though they belonged there. And clearly, they did.

Morty took another drink. And another. And another. Until he felt himself start to sway, not entirely because of the music, and his thoughts all jumbled together in one big, inescapable mess of how completely fucked he was. Or, rather, wanted to be. He lifted the bottle to his lips again for good measure. Why did Rick have to be so good at everything? How many other hidden talents did he have? How many of them also involved his hands?

Everything was happening too much and too fast. Rick kept playing, not looking up from his guitar, and Morty kept drinking, not looking away from Rick. There were too many people around them now for Morty's comfort, and Rick seemed completely involved in his shredding, so Morty left. He turned around and kept walking, bottle still in hand, until he found himself in the garage. He tripped over his own feet walking in and stumbled into the counter, gripping the edge for balance.

Now the room was spinning.

Morty laid down on the cold concrete floor in some attempt to get the room to stop moving, but the progress was minimal. He looked at the bottle of whiskey. Almost half gone. Did he really drink that much? All by himself? It had been nearly full when he found it, but apparently it really added up when you were drinking to forget about everything. The cold felt nice against his face, and Morty closed his eyes, and didn't open them again until he heard the door open.

“Really, Morty? Learn how to handle your liquor, you little- you piece of shit. I was killing it out there and you just wanna come in here and pass out halfway through? Get up.”

Morty groaned. Of course Rick would come in and find him like this.

“Look, R-Rick, I'm soooorrry if I don't have… a-a-a-liver made of… steel, like… everybody else in the family,” he slurred. “I'm just, over here, doing my best, trying to be normal, y'know? But noooo. Can't…. Can't let me just be normal! Can't let me do anything!”

“Great, you're one of those drunks. Good to- real great to know, Morty.”

Rick's hand closed around his arm to pull him up, and Morty tried to swat his hand away, but missed by a good three inches. He was pulled to his feet, where he immediately swayed into Rick, who caught him in his arms. Morty shivered, feeling Rick all around him, and swallowed the stomach acid that came bubbling up his throat.

“No, nope, I mean it, Rick,” he said slowly, grabbing onto Rick's jacket with a white knuckled grip. “You never- never take me seriously, when I say it, but I mean it, you have to let me be normal now. I can't… do this anymore…”

“Do what anymore?” Rick asked, voice dangerously low.

“Anything! I can't do anything! We need, I need… boundaries! I need boundaries, Rick! Don't got em, but I need em, because… I'm going crazy! Crazy over here. Crazy town, population Morty. Can't… can't even do anything! Without thinking about you! Do you- you ever feel like that?”

“Nice. That made absolute sense, Morty. I totally understand you now. Real- real eloquent, Morty, truly a man of words-”

“Shut up, Rick! My therapist told me I can't hang out with you anymore! You know why? Because you're bad for me!”

“Your therapist? Are you serious? You went back to see that lunatic? Morty, therapists are shit! It's not science. It's- it's- it's a bunch of nonsense, people coming in, saying oh, I'm sad, or I'm having anxiety, and you know what therapists do, Morty? They help you blame everyone but yourself. It's not me that's bad for you, it's you! Because you're a piece of shit teenager, and there's nothing wrong with you that can't be explained by- by your underdeveloped brain, Morty. There's nothing some idiot therapist could do to help you that I couldn't achieve in three seconds, Morty!”

“You can't help me! You're the problem!”

“Morty-”

“Shut up, Rick! Oh my God, shut up!”

“You idiot, just-”

Morty used his grip on Rick's jacket to pull him down to his level, and crashed his lips into Rick's feverishly. He knew he was too drunk and inexperienced to do it well, and he also knew he hated himself for wanting the kiss to be good. Rick tasted like alcohol and something else that he couldn't place but that he decided was great anyway because it was Rick, and for a sweet second he could've sworn he felt Rick move with the kiss, lean into his touch, almost reach out to touch him- 

And then Rick was shoving him away with enough force to knock Morty backwards into the counter.

“The fuck, Morty!?”

“Yeah, Rick! Yeah! Exactly! Try and talk shit about my therapist again. See if you can do a better job of helping me with this!”

And before Rick could reply, Morty stormed out of the garage, slamming the door behind him, and kept walking, through the still crowded living room, out the front door, and down the street. He didn't know where he was going and he didn't care.

It didn't matter.

  
  



	2. paradigms

When he woke up, the sun was glaring down on him and he heard, distantly, the sound of children laughing. Morty groaned and lifted his head up.

Big mistake.

The entire world spinned, and not in the pleasant way it did the night before. He felt the vomit creep up his throat, and before he could stop himself, he was gagging on it as it rushed past his lips and onto the grass below. And, surprisingly, after throwing up, it felt just a little bit less like someone was drilling a hole in the back of his head. But only marginally.

He'd never had a hangover before, and he had to say, it was a highly overrated experience. Did Rick ever get hangovers anymore?

Oh, shit. Rick.

Morty crawled to his knees and pushed himself up until he was standing. Swaying slightly, but standing nonetheless. He appeared to be… at a park, but he wasn't sure which one at first glance. Trees, grass, benches, a playground area for kids off in the distance. The thought of going back home briefly crossed his mind, and was then firmly extinguished by the memory of what had happened to make him walk so far in the first place.

Idiot. He was such a goddamn stupid idiot. Not putting his foot down to force Rick to hear him out, then getting completely shitfaced, then…

Well. At least now he knew what Rick tasted like. When he inevitably died of embarrassment when eventually forced to be in the same room as Rick again, he could die knowing that he'd had to balls to do it. Even if it was sloppy and non consensual and weird and a billion other things Morty hadn't planned on it being. Not that he ever planned on that happening.

He wobbled over to the nearest park bench and pulled out his phone. 54 missed calls.

54 missed calls!?

He scrambled to unlock his phone, fingers shaking. 50 of them had been from Rick, 3 from Summer, the remaining one from his dad. He checked his voicemail in a frantic rush, his pulse quickening until he heard Rick's voice through his phone.

“M-Morty, whatever game you're playing, I'm too old for this shit. You hear me? I'm getting rrreeeeaaalll sick of your shit-”

“Morty, call me back.”

“Okay, you sick fuck, I know you did something with my Morty. And I'll find you. I'll find you and I'll fucking kill you. I'll kill your whole family. Nobody fucks with Rick Sanchez. Nobody, you hear me, you, you, you bastard? Morty would never…. He doesn't…. I don't….” There was some unintelligible words muttered under Rick's breath and then that one ended.

“Morty! If you're really Morty… you'd call me back!”

“We can talk about this, okay, just fucking answer your phone.”

“L-listen, you little shit, don't make me find you myself. Because I will, and I won't be very happy.”

A few empty threats later, and the last voicemail was just the sound of shuffling papers and Rick yelling incoherently.

Classic.

Morty felt slightly more inclined to go home after that, knowing that Rick at least wanted him to come home. But something deep inside of him still turned ice cold at the idea of returning, at least so soon after what happened. It was weird, how Rick hadn't even mentioned it in the voicemails. You'd think it would be higher on the list of things to talk about.

And then his phone started buzzing again. He answered it without looking. He already knew who it was, there was only one person it could've been.

“H-hey Rick, what's… what's going on?”

“Where the hell are you?”

“I don't know,” Morty answered honestly. “A park? A big one?” Morty squinted at a building in the distance. “There's… a library, maybe?”

“Okay, that's not that far,” Rick said.

“You know where I am?”

“There's a park right next to the library, you idiot, which you would know, if you knew how to read.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, shut up. I'll be there in five.”

 

X

 

They sat in the ship together and said nothing.

Morty looked out the window the whole time, refusing to look at Rick. And Rick, for his part, stared straight ahead, doing the best driving he had possibly ever, save for the few sips he took from his flask every now and then.

Morty opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again when he saw Rick tense.

“She didn't actually tell me that you were bad for me,” Morty said finally, powering through the uncomfortable feeling deep in his stomach. He had to say SOMETHING.

“What?” Rick asked.

“Dr. Wong. She didn't actually say that. Or that I shouldn't go on adventures with you anymore.”

Rick said nothing.

“She just said that we should have boundaries.”

Rick snorted, and left it at that.

“I think she's right,” Morty said.

“Sure you do,” Rick said bitterly. “So, what, Morty, you want space? Is that it?”

When Rick said it like that, it sounded stupid. Everything Morty said sounded stupid when Rick repeated it. But that didn't make it any less true.

“Yes,” Morty said quietly. “I want space.”

“Fine.”

The ship landed with a thud in the driveway, accentuating the finality of Rick's tone.

Rick got out and slammed the door behind him, leaving Morty stunned and paralyzed in his seat. It couldn't have been that easy. He'd stood up for himself, put his foot down, gotten his go ahead to have space. Rick hadn't even brought up the kiss. And he felt like trash. Absolute wet garbage. It shouldn't feel this way, and yet….

Morty stayed glued to his seat for another few minutes before finding the motivation to get up and out of the ship. Once inside, he was shocked to find passed out bodies littering the floor of the living room. The party seemed like a lifetime ago, the only reminder the throbbing of his head.

“Morty!” Summer said, too loudly, and Morty winced.

“Morty,” she said again, quieter this time.

“Hey, Summer.” He navigated his way to the kitchen, where she was waiting for him, her hand in a bag of potato chips.

“You left early. Jessica was here and she took off her shirt.”

“Oh. That's cool.”

Summer's eyes narrowed. “She didn't actually. I was testing you.”

“Did I pass?”

“No, actually. I know when there's something wrong with you. Where'd you even go? I was texting you. You missed like, half the party.”

“Oh. Well. Rick and I…” he trailed off. This wasn't a conversation he could have with his sister.

“Gotcha,” she said through a mouthful of potato chip. “Trouble in paradise.”

“I woke up at a park,” he said, changing the subject. “And almost threw up on my shoes.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, “you got wasted. I'm surprised you can remember anything.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Well, I'm not feeling too great still, so.” He motioned to the direction of the stairs. “Gonna go up to my room I think.”

“Sure,” Summer said, nodding. 

 

X

 

A day passed without much to note. And then another. And then another. And on the fourth day, Morty felt so restless he considered stealing a car and driving it off a bridge.

“Rick?” Morty asked, knocking on the garage door.

Nothing.

“I, uh, need help with my homework,” he said lamely.

Nothing.

Morty opened the garage door and glanced inside. Rick wasn't there. And the ship was gone. Sighing, he closed the door behind him and entered the garage, sitting down on Rick's chair, spinning around aimlessly. He wanted to touch everything, but knew better.

You're such an idiot, her chided himself. You ask for space, and then get all bored and anxious when you get it. Go do your homework, Lord knows you need the extra practice if you want to pass any of your exams.

But he stayed in the chair, spinning around, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing ever did.

So he went back up to his room and pulled out his math homework. Math made more sense than all of his stupid, conflicting feelings. On one hand, he was fine without Rick. He'd proven as much time and time again. He would be okay if Rick disappeared forever. But that was under normal circumstances. Not right after he'd made such a huge mistake. Not without some kind of closure, even if that closure was just one of their meaningful glances. Which they totally had.

And he'd be lying if he said that didn't fill him with both warmth and despair. But, at this point, mostly despair.

He pushed his math homework away. As if that was actually going to happen. Instead, he pulled out his laptop and opened Minecraft, which he was able to enjoy for approximately two seconds before remembering playing it with Rick, and exited the game. It was like Rick had put his hands all over everything Morty loved and now it was all tainted. There was no escape from one memory or another.

When he thought about having space before, he always imagined having more things to do. He didn't think that the void Rick usually filled was actually… well… a void.

He wandered downstairs, where Summer was on the couch with a glass of their mother's wine, flipping through interdimensional cable. He flopped down next to her.

“Hey,” she greeted. “Where's Grandpa Rick?”

“Who knows,” he replied bitterly.

“Fighting again?”

“More like still.”

Wordlessly they agreed on an episode of Ball Fondlers, and sat in companionable silence for another three episodes before Morty heard his sister begin to snore. He took the wine glass gingerly out of her hands and covered her in a blanket before heading back to the garage to stand in the same spot he stood when he'd kissed Rick.

_You were drunk, cut yourself some slack_ , one part of him said.

You were trying to make out with your gross grandfather, you're not the victim here, the rest of him countered.

_ Yeah, but only to prove a point. _

A shitty point, that shouldn't have ever had to have been made.

_ Got me there. _

 

X

 

“Space” wasn't all it was cracked up to be, Morty decided, when his parents came back before Rick did.

They barely seemed to notice that he wasn't there, and when Summer briefly explained that he'd just been “out” they were completely satisfied with that answer. Morty, on the other hand, was not. He felt betrayed almost, as if Rick had taken this whole thing too far. He wanted answers.

But you're the one who asked for space, the little voice in the back of his head reminded. If you're unhappy you have only yourself to blame. Idiot. Stupid, stupid Morty. Morty. Morty.

“Morty!”

Morty nearly jumped out of his seat. In front of him stood Jessica, surprisingly not surrounded by any of her usual friends.

“J-Jessica! You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he said. He'd meant to sound playful but the words fell flat somehow.

“The bell rang like a minute ago and you haven't moved… are you okay?”

Morty stood up slowly and put away his books into his backpack. “Yeah, just, you know, got a lot on my mind, that's all.”

“I have time,” she said, smiling.

“Not that much time,” he joked.

“Try me.”

Seeing no way out of it, as Jessica walked by his side all the way out the classroom door and down the hallway, Morty decided to do what he always did: half truths and subject changes.

“Rick's been gone for a while and I'm starting to worry about him. But I know it's probably no big deal. How have you been?”

“Pretty good, I guess. Just trying to be single and happy at the same time, you know how it is.”

Morty almost sighed in relief. He could always count on girls to want to talk about themselves more than about him.

“Sure do,” he agreed, trying to remember when Jessica became single. Was this a recent development? Or was she still single from the last time? Nobody told him anything. Honestly, most people seemed astonished by his mere existence, having forgotten he was, in fact, still a student at the school. If he could go back in time and tell his past self that he'd eventually get to a point where Jessica was one of his (almost, kind of) friends, he'd have fainted.

As it was, he didn't feel very faint at the idea of it now. Funny how that worked.

“Morty, I…” Jessica stopped suddenly, and he turned on his heel to face her. “I've been thinking…”

His brain came to a stuttering halt.

“Maybe I could tutor you? In math, at least? I'm sorry, I know it's not my business, but I don't want you to get held back, and I know you're really struggling. But math is easy for me, so…”

“Aw jeez, Jessica, you don't have to do that.”

“I want to! It could be fun!”

Morty shuffled his feet. “Well, I guess, if you really want to, it couldn't hurt anything…”

“Awesome! I can come over tomorrow if you want?”

“Y-Yeah, that'd be great. I don't think my parents would mind.” Translation: I don't think my parents would even notice.

“Alright!” Jessica leapt forward and gave him a quick hug, and it was over as soon as it began, before Morty had a chance to reciprocate. She then waved goodbye, and was out the double doors and gone.

He wished he was his past self again. 

 

X

 

Morty shifted and fidgeted in his seat on the couch in front of Dr. Wong, avoiding her gaze for fear of her somehow being able to see into his soul.

“So,” she began, adjusting her grip on her notepad. “Did you talk to your grandfather?”

Morty froze, and then felt stupid for freezing. He was here for a reason, and that reason wasn't to obfuscate the truth. He did enough of that with everyone else.

“Eventually, kind of,” Morty said. “But first I got drunk and…” he trailed off, seeing her write on her notepad. He didn't begin again until he felt her eyes on him. “Well. I kissed him.” He tensed, waiting for the inevitable judgement.

She didn't write anything down for that. Instead, she set the notepad down and crossed her fingers together.

“And… and then I left. And I woke up the next morning in a park, with a really bad hangover, and Rick found me somehow and took me home and I told him that we needed boundaries and he asked if that meant I needed space and I said yes and then he didn't speak to me for days and then he left and he's been gone and I don't know where he is or if he's mad at me and… well, I'm worried he's not coming back. Which is such a cliche for my family, but here we are again.”

Dr. Wong nodded, clearly processing everything. “You're worried that he left you because you expressed that you wanted boundaries?”

“Yes,” Morty said without hesitation. “He's always on about Rick and Morty this, a hundred years us, how nothing will get in the way of us… and, you know the weirdest part?”

“What?”

“He didn't even bring up the kiss. He left me some weird voicemails after I left about how he didn't think I was actually me, and then he said we could talk about it, but then when he picked me up… nothing.”

“Did you want to talk about it with him?”

“No. Yes. I don't know, it's just weird he didn't say anything about it.”

“Is it possible your grandfather is choosing to let it go?”

“He doesn't ever let anything go. Especially fuck ups like that. He's always telling me how much of a fuck up I am, and then when I fuck up the worst I've ever done, he lets it go? I don't… I don't think that's it.”

“Is it possible he doesn't see it as a 'fuck up’, as you put it?”

“I don't know.”

“Morty, I believe your grandpa is a person who would rather run away from his issues than deal with them. I believe he sees self care as beneath him. I believe that, if given the opportunity to push something he finds uncomfortable emotionally under the rug, he will. He is not emotionally strong, but he sees himself as such because he mistakes lack of effort and empathy for having the upper hand, and I believe having the upper hand is very important to him. He likes to feel in control and will do anything to ensure it stays that way. I believe that your actions have challenged his paradigm, and that makes him feel uncomfortable and not in control. However, this is not to say that your action was excusable in any way.”

“His… paradigm?”

“The way he sees the world. In his world, you exist only as he allows you to exist, with few contradictions. Am I correct?”

Morty felt almost unclean. There were plenty of times he challenged Rick, but few times it was genuinely paid attention and given credit. Rick didn't care to be told no, or what to do. He'd gone along with Morty's decisions once or twice, griping all the way, but when it came down to it, this was the Rick Show, and Morty was just along for the ride.

“You're not wrong,” he admitted.

“He'll come back,” Dr. Wong assured him. “But he may need time. It is a lot to expect of someone, especially someone like him, to bounce back after a life changing event.”

A life changing event. It was difficult to look at the kiss as “life changing”. Embarrassing, yes. Sloppy, yes. Worth going back in time and not doing? Yes. But life changing, no. Rick was still Rick and Morty was still Morty, and nothing actually changed.

Right?

 

X

 

A lot of the time, motherhood was little more than a menial task for Beth. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy it or didn't try, but when it came down to it, it was a chore. It was like doing the dishes. And, metaphorically speaking, it looked like the dishes were really piling up.

Summer was getting less and less sneaky about her drinking, and Beth felt like a hypocrite at the very idea of trying to confront her about it, but she knew either she put her foot down or she would watch her daughter fall down into the same pit of despair that ran in the family.

And Morty, he never even left his room anymore. She knew something was wrong, but she couldn't imagine what it could be, besides the fact that her father hadn't come back yet. Usually the two were inseparable, but it had only been a few days. The ride to Dr. Wong's office had been the most amount of time she'd spent with him since she and Jerry came back, and it was spent in a tense silence.

Call it motherly instincts, but enough was enough.

She knocked on Morty's door twice.

“Yeah?” Was his muffled reply.

“Family meeting,” she said shortly. “Living room, now.”

She went back downstairs to the living room where Summer and Jerry were already sitting on the couch. Jerry, looking only slightly out of place, Summer, engrossed in her phone.

“Phone away, please,” she said.

Summer huffed, but slid her phone into her pocket anyway as Morty came slowly down the stairs, wearing only boxer shorts.

“So,” Beth started once Morty was also sitting on the couch, staring at his feet dejectedly. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” Summer asked.

“About being a family again. We don't spend any time with each other anymore. So let's do something this Saturday, as a family.”

Summer groaned. “I have plans Saturday.”

“Yeah, to spend time with your family.”

“I like this idea,” Jerry piped up. “It'll be good for us to get out of the house!”

“What'll we do?” Morty asked.

“I don't know, go see a movie?” Beth suggested. “Family game night? I want this to be fun!”

“There's nothing fun about spending time with this family,” Summer said.

“Not with that attitude,” Jerry said.

“Since when are we a family,” Morty muttered.

“Since never,” Summer mumbled back.

“And I'm trying to fix things,” Beth explained. “Listen, I know the past year has been… hectic… for us, but I want us to settle into a new routine. One where we actually talk to each other.”

“Yeah? You want to talk?” Summer asked sarcastically. “You really want to know what's going on with us? Let's start with Grandpa Rick-”

“-we don't need him to be a family,” Jerry interjected.

“Of course you'd say that,” Summer snapped. “Isn't anyone wondering where he is?”

And then the tell tale sound of the ship landing in the driveway resonated throughout the house, rendering all four of them silent.

Morty was on his feet in an instant, rushing to the garage, and Summer wasn't far behind him, leaving Beth and Jerry alone in the living room. Jerry looked up at her helplessly, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes and follow her children obediently. Jerry could deal.

By the time she got to the garage, Rick was already sitting in his chair, frantically rummaging through the drawers to find something. Summer and Morty surrounded him, but only Summer spoke.

“Oh my God, Grandpa Rick, are you okay?”

Beth's heart skipped a beat when she finally got close enough to him to take a good look at the state he was in. His labcoat was torn and tattered, and covered in blood. His eyes looked bloodshot and bruised, his lip was busted open, and his knuckles were raw.

Rick pulled out a vial of bright yellow liquid and downed it like a shot. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“You should see the other guy,” he joked, though noticeably wincing in pain. Upon seeing the horrified looks of his family, he clarified, “I'm- I'm fine, thank you, you can all stop looking at me like- like I'm some kind of wounded animal.”

Beth wanted to say that if he didn't want to be stared at like a wounded animal, maybe be shouldn't be looking like one, but she held her tongue. Comments like that would just result in a battle of wits, and she was in no mood to engage her father on that level at the moment.

Jerry finally announced his appearance with, “Jesus, Rick! What happened to you?”

“Nothing some vodka and sleep can't cure,” Rick said, and stood up. “So, if you all don't mind, I'll be taking care of that, most likely in that order.”

And he went inside the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Charming,” Jerry commented.

“Don't think that this conversation is over, you two,” Beth said, turning to Summer and Morty. “We're going to be a family even if it kills us.” 

 

X

 

Rick hadn't even looked at him. Morty felt sick.

Everyone else in the house was sound asleep, having gone to bed hours ago, and Morty sat on the kitchen floor in the dark, holding a bottle of whiskey in his hands for the second time in his life, debating with his inner demons. He could barge into Rick's room, demand an explanation, probably end up crying and making a further fool of himself in some desperate attempt at making amends. Or… he could not, and see how long it took until Rick broke and finally talked to him again. But a battle of seeing who could be more stubborn could last a lifetime.

He hadn't actually drank from the bottle yet, but he felt more secure with it in his grasp. Just the knowledge that he could be drinking. It had been nice, kind of, to finally not have control over himself. If he'd been a better person, he probably could have hit that sweet spot of drunkenness where he had enough confidence to hook up with a girl. Even if it wouldn't have led to him getting laid, just fooling around with a girl would have been nice. There were plenty of them there, most of them drinking enough they might have thought he was cute. Liquor had a way of increasing his usual 4/10 to at least a six.

He'd hoped that not spending time with Rick would have made him think about Rick less, but it was apparent that was the opposite of the actual effect. Or maybe it would have been the case, had he not fucked up and revealed his feelings though more or less assaulting his grandfather. Now maybe Rick would never talk to him again.

Morty unscrewed the cap off the bottle and pressed it to his lips, forcing himself to down at least a shot’s worth of whiskey before swallowing. He could see the appeal finally, that was a plus. In some way, he felt closer to the rest of his family this way than anything else. If nothing else, there was always going to be two things they could bond over: drinking, and having to put up with Rick. Maybe the two were related.

The memory of him and Summer at the Citadel came back to him, where he went off on some speech about how Rick was some kind of fucked up god. Everyone had been telling them that his Rick had been killed and he hadn't believed it for a second. His Rick couldn't be killed. This fact had been proven over and over right before his eyes, countless times. His Rick was invincible. Nothing could hurt him, and nothing affected him. And if it did, it didn't for long.

He took another pull from the bottle, testing his limit of how much of the burn he could handle. It felt like fire all the way down his throat, and it felt amazing. He drank from the bottle again and again until all of his body tingled and felt heavier than it actually was.

Since when am I so weak, he thought desperately, leaning back against the cupboards. Since when do I drink to feel better. Since when am I this person.

Slowly, he stood up. He was going to put the bottle back on the shelf, go to bed, and pretend this hadn't happened. In fact, he might try to pretend the entire past week hadn't happened. Or maybe for good measure he could pretend the last year hadn't happened, and go back to who he was then. Sure, that version of him was naive and shy and pitiful, but at least he wasn't consumed with angst and intrusive thoughts. He was going to do all of that, but then the light turned on, revealing Rick, standing there in a fresh new labcoat, blood rinsed from his body. His blue hair was still damp from the shower he must've taken.

Rick's eyes seemed to glaze over as they made direct eye contact, but they quickly darted away and landed on the bottle in Morty's hand instead. Morty braced himself for any number of reactions from Rick, but for some reason he hadn't expected Rick to walk right up to him, reach for a glass behind his head, and then turn to the fridge to get orange juice. If Morty could get more miserable, he didn't want to find out. So he put the bottle away as planned, and got almost halfway out of the kitchen before he heard Rick's voice.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Morty rounded on him. “... What?” His vision blurred for a moment and he tried to blink past it.

“Let's go somewhere,” Rick reiterated.

It's two thirty in the morning, he should have said. I have school tomorrow, he should have said. He should have said anything other than, “alright, where?”

Rick's eyes lit up and he pulled out his portal gun and aimed at the wall. “Just trust me.”

“Aw, come on, Rick, just tell me.”

“Nope.” Rick stepped forward and grabbed Morty by the arm and dragged him along through the portal.

On the other side, the pulsing of heavy bass hit him like a train. Everything was dimly lit and all of the few lights there were put out a soft, glowing pink. Directly ahead of them was a large stage, where a busty, half naked lizard person was dancing. All around them were lizard girls, in various stages of undress. The patrons were a more diverse crowd though, many different species enjoying the show, enjoying their drinks, some even enjoying each other, which Morty quickly looked away from.

“A… strip club,” he said. “You took me to a strip club. With lizards.”

“They're not lizards, they're Traflaxians. You racist,” Rick said, and was suddenly walking off in the other direction. Morty felt a hot blush of anger creep up to his cheeks, but followed Rick anyway, all the way down a hallway at the back of the building, to a door at the end of the hallway. Rick knocked on the door in an elaborate rhythm, and it swung open, revealing a large, bright red lizard woman.

Or, Traflaxian. Whatever.

“Rrrrrrick! Gorgeous, how are you!? Come in, come in,” she said, ushering them inside. The room was large yet surprisingly cozy, with large, pink cushions for seating littered throughout the floor, and tapestries over all the walls in patterns Morty could only describe as psychedelic. The room must have been sound proofed, because the low bass of the rest of the club was exchanged for a quiet jazz.

The lizard woman sat herself down and motioned for them to sit across from her.

“Skaya,” Rick said affectionately. “It's been too long.”

“If only you'd come here more often instead of getting yourself into trouble,” she scolded. “Don't think I didn't hear about your little stunt with the galactic government.”

“Little stunt,” Rick laughed easily, as if they were talking about a funny prank instead of the overthrowing of an oppressive empire. “You're welcome, by the way. If they had it their way, they should have shut your operation down w-what, ages ago?”

“They didn't get me the way you do, lovely,” she admitted. Skaya then looked at Morty, as if she was only noticing him now. “I see you brought a new toy! Who is this little snack?”

Morty shifted uncomfortably under her lascivious gaze.

“Actually, this is my grandson, Morty,” Rick said defensively.

“I'm not here to judge you, baby doll,” she purred. “You could do worse for yourself.”

Morty was certain he was beet red by now, and it took actual effort not to cover his face in embarrassment. Though he couldn't help but feel strangely encouraged by her compliments, he didn't receive them very often.

“Couldn't,” Rick corrected, snorting.

And just like that, the moment was over and Morty felt right back down to Earth, where he was just a stupid, worthless kid with a taboo crush and Rick was… well, Rick.

“I'm right here,” Morty said, and was promptly ignored by both of them.

“Now where are my manners!” Skaya gasped dramatically, leaping up and heading over to a table in the corner. When she returned, she was holding a large pipe packed with a bowl of what looked like weed, but it was shimmering and bright purple. She handed it and a tiny pink lighter to Rick. “You can do the honors,” she said.

Rick held the flame to the very edge and inhaled deeply, holding it in for a few seconds before gracefully exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. He then held the pipe out to Morty.

Morty did his best to copy Rick's actions, but there was much more smoke in his lungs in a much quicker amount of time than he expected, and immediately started coughing, smoke escaping his lips and nose in thin tendrils. Rick began to laugh at him, but there was something light and playful about the sound. Still coughing, Morty held out the pipe to Skaya. They passed it around for a few turns in a relatively comfortable silence, Morty getting better at managing himself with each pass.

“That's good shit,” Rick complimented, and leaned back against the cushion, sprawling his legs out in front of him.

Morty had to agree. He was giggling almost uncontrollably at nothing, and he felt… good. If he had any problems, he couldn't remember them. The colors on the tapestries seemed brighter, the cushion softer, the general mood the furthest thing from tense it could be.

“Only the best for my Rick,” Skaya smiled. 

 

X

 

Time passed differently under the influence of whatever it was they'd just smoked together. It was choppy, with mini blackouts. Morty went from sitting next to Rick on a cushion to being sprawled out on the carpet with Rick and Skaya laying on either side of him, not knowing how he got there, but being perfectly content with where he'd ended up. He couldn't help but notice he was much closer to Rick than Skaya, and the idea of being close to Rick made him giggle like an idiot. Not that it was saying much. His face was starting to hurt from how much he'd been smiling and laughing.

“We all die,” Rick was saying slowly. His words seemed to move like molasses to Morty. Was Rick really speaking that slowly?

“Everything dies. And nothing… means anything… so the only point to life is to do whatever the fuck you want…”

“Whatever the fuck you want,” Morty repeated, tasting the words on his tongue.

“Whatever the fuck you want,” Rick stressed, in the same tone of voice he usually saved for explaining his work. “There's nothing to stop you except yourself…”

“That's scary,” Morty said.

“You can't imagine how I feel,” Rick said, and it would have sounded sad, but Morty was certain this drug didn't let you be sad.

And then they were back out in the strip club together, Skaya nowhere in sight. Rick was getting a lap dance from one of the lizard girls and Morty was laughing hysterically for no reason.

“Do you remember how we got here?” Morty asked.

“Skaya had a client,” Rick explained. Morty wasn't sure what he meant by 'client’. “So she gave us Candy here.”

“Kaldi,” the dancer corrected. “It means 'temptation’ in our native tongue.”

“Whatever,” Rick said. “How- how about you give my boy Morty here some attention?”

Kaldi pulled away from Rick and turned to Morty, tracing his jawline with a long, glossy black claw. Morty felt a protest right on the tip of his tongue, but then she started moving, twisting her hips provocatively inches away from him, and he momentarily reconsidered his previous stance of not being overly attracted to lizards.

“Do you want to touch me?” She asked lowly in his ear.

“I, uh…”

She grabbed his hands and placed them gently on her hips. Her light blue scales, dusted with a purple glitter, felt warm under his fingertips.

“Oh, okay,” he whispered.

“Careful not to cum in your pants,” Rick said derisively.

Kaldi leaned forward and licked Morty's neck in a long stripe and then... he was sitting in a booth in a brightly lit 50s themed diner, Rick across from him, looking over a menu. They each had a mug of coffee in front of them. He looked out the window next to their booth, and it was daytime, and seemingly on Earth.

Morty blinked. “Where are we?”

“Sunrise Diner,” Rick explained, not looking up from the menu. “You got hungry and asked me to take you out to breakfast, remember?”

“Not really.”

“Damn, I forgot how much that shit messed with your memory when you're a newbie. What's the last thing you remember?”

Morty tried to focus. They were still at the strip club, they… “Kaldi?” He offered.

“That was hours ago,” was all Rick said.

“What happened?”

“Nothing really,” Rick said, but the tone in his voice betrayed that it might have not been entirely true. He elaborated upon looking up and seeing Morty's skeptical expression. Rick sighed and put down the menu. “She danced, tried to get us to have a threesome, which you actually tried to get me to agree to, you hormonal little psycho, and then I refused, as politely as possible, I'll have you know. And then you asked me to take you out to eat. So here we are.”

Morty blanched. He'd actually tried to convince Rick to have a threesome with an alien and didn't remember it. He must've looked mortified, because Rick scoffed suddenly.

“Don't be a baby about it, Mo-Morty. It's a hell of a drug. I've done much worse with far more inhibition. You wouldn't feel so bad if you were able to remember it, I bet.”

“I'm sorry I asked you for a threesome,” Morty said, his words rushing together. “That's- I don't- that would be-”

Rick raised his hand and Morty silenced. “Don't think too hard about it.”

 

X

 

As they sat in silence eating their pancakes, Morty started to feel more and more himself. The drug must've been wearing off finally, and he felt like he'd aged ten years over the course of the night. His joints ached and he had fierce cottonmouth, which the coffee barely scratched the surface of.

Coming back down to Earth and remembering who he was, and where he was, he suddenly dropped his fork on the plate. “Oh my God, Rick!”

“What!?”

“I'm late for school!”

“You want to go to school? Seriously? That- that- that… intellectual wasteland, that's the place you'd choose to go to wind down from last night?”

“I like school,” Morty said defensively. “And Jessica's coming over tonight to help me with my math homework,” he remembered aloud.

“Oh boy, Jessica, coming to save the day from your atrocious grades. Good on her. I've only been trying to teach you basic math skills for how long now?”

“This is different,” Morty argued. “She's just trying to teach me algebra, not, like, crazy hypothetical equations.”

“Hypothetical equations?”

“Whatever, Rick, look, just take me to school now, okay? Please?”

Rick shrugged, and stuffed another bite of pancake in his mouth before getting up. Morty followed him outside, and Rick pointed his portal gun at the side of the building. Morty hesitated before going through.

“R-Rick?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Are we cool?”

A variety of expressions flashed in Rick's eyes before they eventually landed on one that stuck: guilt. Rick rubbed at the back of his neck and avoided Morty's gaze.

“Ye-yeah, Morty, we're cool. Why wouldn't we be?”

“Because…” Morty stopped himself. If they were cool, they were cool. No sense in reminding Rick what happened. If they were gonna pretend that what happened didn't actually happen, so be it. “No reason. See you later, Rick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there demons, it's me, ya boy.
> 
> this was originally going to be two separate chapters, but I was like, hey. You know what. 
> 
> Treat yoself.
> 
> Nbd.


	3. 3:47 am

Rick was not a good person. If there had been any doubt in his mind before, it shattered the moment Morty kissed him. It took days to come down from the adrenaline rush of having Morty grab him like that, and press his lips against Rick's like that. He'd almost kissed him back, too, and what an absolute disaster that would have been. How would he have been able to play that one off. Oh, sorry, I was drunk too? Fucking doubtful.

Morty was getting to that age where emotions went into overdrive, Rick knew that. And the kiss was nothing more than that, Rick also knew. Morty was a confused, hormonal teenager, and Rick was fucking him up by spending so much time with him and isolating him from everyone he could be hanging out with and developing feelings for. He was in therapy now because of it, for fuck’s sake. Morty had done everything in his power to prove that Rick needed to fuck right off, and what did Rick do? He came back. Because he needed to.

He needed to be with Morty. He wasn't entirely sure he knew how to function without the kid anymore. Without those big eyes looking up at him, sometimes with wonder, sometimes with hatred. He knew he was sick for it, using Morty to fuel his narcissism and negate the ever present loneliness. He knew he was sick for the fantasies he had, the desire he felt deep within him for someone who was not only underage, but also a blood relative. But that was supposed to be his burden to bear, not Morty's. He'd do anything to shelter Morty from that truth.

So he left, and he let Morty have his space for a while. And so what if he spent that entire time getting wasted and picking fights at seedy bars? Everyone needed an outlet. And when he finally came back, he took Morty to go get high. Which may not be the best thing to do, but hey. It was better than any alternative Rick could think about.

The all nighter left Rick drained. He hadn't noticed how tense he'd been around Morty until he left to go to school, and now everything felt too loose and lethargic. He crawled into his bed with his clothes still on and closed his eyes, and it wasn't long before his mind drifted to where it usually did when he didn't have to worry about filtering out the less than savory. Morty. In his arms, or underneath him, or above him, or in any number of positions. All the things he'd do if he was a less moral version of himself. He'd really considered taking them up on that offer of a threesome, really, really considered it, but…

It was probably for the best that he declined.

 

X

 

_ “Daddy, daddy! Can you come color with me?” _

_ “Not right now, sunshine, Daddy's busy.” _

_ “Aww.” _

_ Rick looked behind him, and saw Beth staring dejectedly at the floor, coloring book in one hand, three crayons in the other. Her blonde hair was pulled back with a pink, flowery headband, but she was still wearing the same pink nightgown they'd put her in for bed the night before. It was a Saturday, so it didn't really matter. _

_ He turned back to his work. Research papers were strewn all over the desk. He'd been up nearly all night working, and then immediately returned to it when he woke up. _

_ “Please, daddy?” Beth pressed. _

_ “I'm sorry. How about you get Mommy to color with you?” _

_ “Mommy says she can't because she's making us breakfast!” _

_ Rick ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Beth…” _

_ And then he saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and her lower lip began to tremble. She dropped the coloring book and the crayons and fell to her knees, suddenly sobbing. A flash of anger coursed through him, and soon Diane was there, picking up the coloring book and Beth. _

_ “What's the matter?” Diane asked Beth, not even looking at Rick. _

_ “Daddy won't color with me!” She howled. _

_ Oh, Diane looked at him then, and not pleasantly. “You can't even take a break to color with your daughter?” _

_ “Diane-” _

_ “Rick!” _

_ “Okay, fine, Jesus, I'll color. Fuck.” _

_ “Language, please!” _

_ “Fuck,” Beth repeated, and burst into a fit of giggles when Diane looked at her scoldingly. Diane set her and the coloring book on the floor, and glared daggers at Rick, who, accepting his fate, sat down on the floor next to Beth and picked up a blue crayon. _

_ “You can color the puppy, Daddy. I'll color the kitty.” _

_ Feeling Diane's eyes still on him, he began to color the puppy on the page, and waited until she left to breathe easy again. _

_ “I love you, Daddy,” Beth said suddenly. _

_ “I love you too, sweetheart.” _

Rick woke up with tears in his eyes, and couldn't remember why. 

 

X

 

“Thank you for the food, Mrs Smith,” Jessica said, taking a seat at an extra chair next to Morty at the table. “It looks great.”

“Oh, it's just meatloaf.” Beth smiled, eating up the praise. “And please, you can call me Beth. It's so wonderful you volunteered to help Morty.”

“Anything for a friend,” she replied lightly.

“Y-Yeah, I might actually pass my test tomorrow,” Morty said through a mouthful of meatloaf.

“I'm so glad you two are friends. Morty's lucky to have a friend like you,” Jerry said, not paying the least bit of attention to Morty’s growing blush of embarrassment.

“Morty's lucky to have a friend period,” Summer muttered under her breath.

Morty wanted to argue the point, but he figured he'd be throwing stones in a glass house. Truthfully, he was lucky anybody noticed him at all other than Rick, much less wanted to come over to his house. And Jessica was special. Always had been. The idea that after they finished eating they'd head up to his room and study together filled him with both happiness and anxiety. Happixiety.

“Hey Dad,” his mom said, and Morty looked up to see Rick sitting down across from him.

Rick, to be blunt, looked like shit. Like he hadn't slept in years. His hair was messier than usual, and that was saying something, and his eyes were bloodshot. If anyone noticed, though, they didn't say anything.

“Hey, sweetie,” hey said groggily. He didn't reach for any food. And then, “hey, Jessica.”

“Rick,” Jessica acknowledged.

Rick and Jessica shared some kind of meaningful glance, and Morty looked away from Rick back down to his food, poking at it half-heartedly. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore, and just wanted to go back upstairs with Jessica. Away from Rick. His presence at the table put Morty decidedly in an uneasy mood, but he couldn't pinpoint why. Rick had said they were good, so they should be good.

The family, plus one, ate in silence until Morty noticed that Jessica had finished her food. “You- you ready?” Morty asked her.

“Sure!” Jessica stood up and reached to take her plate to the kitchen but was waved off by Beth.

“I'll get that, don't worry about it,” Beth said. She was being unusually nice, but Morty supposed it was due in part to the fact that this was the first time he'd ever had a friend over. Ever.

Morty stole a glance at Rick, but quickly looked away when he saw that Rick was already staring at him, an odd look in his eyes that Morty was certain he'd overanalyze later.

So they headed up to his room, backpacks slung over their shoulders, and Jessica settled in on his bed, Morty at his desk. It wasn't lost on him that the fantasy of having Jessica in his room, on his bed, was finally coming true, but not really in the same way that it went down in the countless daydreams he'd used to have.

“So, our homework is page 254, all of the odd numbers,” Jessica started, and they pulled out their hefty textbooks.

“I'm gonna be honest, I don't know how to do any of this stuff,” Morty said, laughing nervously. “I've… kind of missed a lot of school, you know, with Rick and everything, so-”

“-it's okay, I get it. That's why I offered to help.” Her tone was so gentle and understanding, he could have melted on the spot. But instead he turned back to his textbook.

Jessica ended up having to give him a refresher course in how to do basic algebra before they could even begin to work on their homework, and it ate up a lot more time than Morty had anticipated. And it didn't help that once they started in on the questions, Morty needed help with every single one. It finally began to sink in just how far behind he'd gotten in his studies, and it was enough to make the idea of just dropping out and calling it a day cross his mind more than once during Jessica's attempts to get him to understand. But he liked school. He liked having somewhere he could go that was just his, away from everything else. He couldn't afford to not take it seriously. What else was he going to do, drop out? Have all of his free time dictated by Rick even more than it already was? Get a job at some fast food joint and work there until he died because he didn't have any marketable skills?

“Hey, Morty, it's okay, we can take a break if you want to,” Jessica said, snapping Morty back to his room and away from the grimdark inevitability of never amounting to anything in life.

“What? Oh, ha, I guess I zoned out there for a minute.”

“You look like you're about to cry,” she said bluntly.

And sure enough, the prickling feeling of tears forming in his eyes was there, and he blinked it away, trying not to look at Jessica.

“It's not the math,” he explained.

Jessica closed her textbook. “What is it?”

Oh, I don't know, how about the crushing weight of the fact that I somehow have feelings for the same person who essentially ruined my life and I'll be left with nothing when he's gone because I'd rather go spend time with him than better myself?

“It's nothing. What time is it?”

Jessica pulled out her phone and gasped when she turned the screen on to check the time. “Oh my God, it's already eight thirty. I told my parents I'd be home half an hour ago!”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. I should get going. Sorry, Morty, let's do this again soon though.”

He walked with her down the stairs and was shocked when she turned back to kiss him lightly on the cheek before leaving. “I had fun tonight,” she said.

“Yeah, me, I-I did too,” he stumbled over his words. 

 

X

  
  


Rick rolled his eyes, overhearing the exchange from the living room. He pulled again from the bottle of beer in his hand and flipped through the channels on the television.

“I had fun tonight,” Rick mimicked Jessica in a high pitched voice.

“Be nice,” Summer said from where she was curled up with her phone on the armchair. “She's like, his only friend. And before you say anything, no, you don't count. Sorry.”

“Since when are you protector of Morty's feelings? It's not like this is gonna last. She's gonna get back together with Bryan or what's his name and then it'll be ‘Morty, who's Morty’?”

“It's Brad. And would it kill you to just be happy for him for once?”

“I would be happy if there was anything to be happy about. Some tramp pretending to like him just to make herself feel better is hardly cause for celebration, but do keep me posted for updates, since you're so convinced there's going to be a wedding.”

“Oh my God, you're such an asshole,” Summer replied.

Rick drank more beer in response. 

 

X

 

Having not slept in approximately 48 hours, Morty immediately crawled into bed after Jessica left. He hadn't noticed throughout the day just how tired he was, but after every possible distraction was gone, it hit him like a train. He took off his shirt and his jeans, slipped under his blanket, and stretched, yawning lazily.

It had actually been a really good day, all things considered. Rick was talking to him again and said they were okay, nobody messed with him at school, Jessica actually helped out a lot, to the point of Morty being confident of at least a C grade on his test tomorrow. And she'd kissed his cheek, which he had no complaints about. He was feeling good. Borderline healthy. He couldn't wait to tell Dr. Wong about his progress, but it was going to be another few days before he'd see her again, and a lot could happen in a few days. Hopefully all good things.

Content with life, the universe, and everything, he fell quickly into a dreamless sleep, only to be woken up a few hours later to the sound of his door opening and closing. Morty consciously evened his breathing to pretend to still be asleep as the smell of hard liquor washed over him, impossible to ignore or confuse with anything else. Rick was in his room. Because of course he was. Morty opened his eyes just a fraction, only enough to see that the alarm clock next to his bed read 3:47 AM. Goddamnit, Rick. Morty closed his eyes again and started to pretend to roll over in his sleep, but the bed creaked and shifted and Morty froze.

Rick climbed haphazardly into the bed and laid down next to Morty. The older man pulled out his flask from his coat and swallowed a few gulps of its contents before tossing it halfway across the room, where it landed on the floor with a thud that seemed much louder than it realistically was, it being so late in the night and so early in the morning. He then draped an arm around Morty and inched closer until his chest was pressed against Morty's back.

What the fuck, Rick. Morty clenched his teeth to keep from saying or doing anything, especially anything he'd end up regretting later. His breathing was steady, but his heart pounded away in his chest.

“You don't want me,” Rick murmured softly against Morty's hair. “You only- you're just a stupid kid. Don't know shit.”

Morty wanted to scream.

“I'll hurt you,” Rick continued. “All- all I have is hurting you. Don't you get it?” Rick dug his fingernails into Morty's forearm. “You try to leave, I won't let you. You try to be good, I call you an idiot. You can't win with me. But we're in this together now, do you hear me? I can't win with you either, Morty, you piece of shit. Say something, I know you're awake, Morty.”

Morty let out a tiny sigh before returning to trying to regulate his breathing. He didn't know what Rick was playing at, but it was something he didn't want to be awake for.

“You can't ignore me forever. I'm very difficult to ignore for long. So you can just cut the bullshit and tell me why you kissed me. That's right, I didn't fucking forget that. Did you want me to kiss you back? Why? What's your fucking damage? Don't you know who I am? I'm dangerous. Or maybe you like that.” Rick leaned his head lower, his lips centimeters away from Morty's neck. “You like dangerous. You won't give up on adventures with me because you know it's dangerous. You won't give up on me because I'm dangerous. You need that high, huh? Is that it?”

Morty gave up on trying to pretend to be asleep, his breath quickening despite himself.

“If you kissed me again, I don't think I'd be able to stop myself right now,” Rick said. “That's the- that's my damage. I'm supposed to be the bad guy here, not you. I've already killed for you, you know that? You know I'd kill anyone who touched you. And that's because I'm the sick one. Because you're supposed to be mine. Nobody hurts you but me. God, I'm so fucking drunk. What the fuck.”

Morty rolled over to face Rick, who had his eyes screwed shut, but tears were beginning to form around their corners regardless. Experimentally, Morty reached up and touched Rick's shoulder lightly, and Rick's eyes snapped open. Rick did nothing to stop the tears then, and they slid down his face. It occurred to Morty he'd never seen Rick properly cry before, whereas Morty had cried plenty of times in front of Rick. He'd never seen Rick vulnerable. Not like this, anyway.

“What're you waiting f-”

Morty leaned forward and pressed his lips against Rick's softly, and gasped when Rick grabbed him then around the hips and lifted Morty on top of him, but he didn't break the kiss, and neither did Rick. Rick reached up and placed his hands on either side of Morty's neck and deepened the kiss, biting softly at Morty's lower lip, which earned a quiet groan of approval. Morty whined in pathetic desperation and grabbed a fistful of Rick's coat and began to move his hips against him, suddenly needy for friction. Rick squeezed slightly around Morty's neck, and then suddenly he was pushing him away, off of him and back onto the bed. With a surprising amount of speed and grace Rick leapt from the bed, and walked over to the door.

“Get some sleep, Morty,” Rick said, and then he left.


	4. low hanging fruit

Morty didn't sleep for the rest of the night. He laid awake in bed for hours, mind racing, the tingling of his lips the only thing to keep him from convincing himself that what had just happened hadn't actually happened.

He felt more confused about his own feelings than he had the day he decided he needed to go to therapy for them. Whether or not what had just happened was a good thing or not was his number one priority to figure out, and that was entirely up to what happened next. Which, one of two things was going to happen, Morty figured. One, Rick was going to pretend it hadn't happened, leaving Morty all alone in his feelings and confusion once more, leaving him at square one. They'd go about their adventures as normal, never talking about it. Morty didn't like that idea. Two, this was going to quickly spiral out of his control as their relationship took a turn for the physical. This idea was far more appealing, though admittedly, he couldn't imagine it. He couldn't see Rick wanting him sexually. The moments where he openly valued Morty even as a general idea were few and far between, the concept of Rick feeling any sort of… desire… for Morty felt so far above the young boy’s pay grade it was laughable.

And then there was the third option. The one Morty didn't want to think about. The one where Rick left without a word and didn't come back until some unmentioned date, after a long enough time that when he got back everyone would just be happy he was there instead of angry with him for leaving in the first place. It was a classic Rick trick, one of the oldest in his book. Just fucking leave if you don't like what's happening.

It seemed like a trivial, arbitrary part of their encounter, but Morty kept thinking back to Rick telling him that he needed danger, and that's why he hadn't emotionally left Rick behind. Sometimes people say things out loud and you don't know it's true until it's said, and this felt like one of those times. Because Rick was right. Morty loved the adrenaline rush of almost dying nearly every other day.

Well.

Maybe that got tedious at times, but in a general sense, there was nothing better than running for your life. Nothing. And he wasn't going to get that anywhere else. Rick was his only supplier. And maybe that was it, maybe it wasn't that he had actual feelings, it was just that Rick gave him something no one else could.

Didn't explain making out with him in the middle of the night, but nothing was going to explain that, save for Rick. He could explain why he decided to come into Morty's room and do what he did. Probably wasn't going to actually happen though, Morty was more than aware of that. Rick had never been big on explaining his actions. You either understood him or you didn't.

His alarm clock finally buzzed right at seven, and he could've thrown it across the room, but instead he just shut it off, crawled out of bed, put on fresh clothes, grabbed his backpack, and headed downstairs for breakfast, where he could hear his family already arguing.

Right on time.

“Dad! You can't talk to Jerry that way!”

“Oh, right, I forgot, I'm sorry. Hey Jerry, could you bend over for me?”

“Why!?”

“So I can kiss your ass.”

“Oh, you know what-”

Tuning them out, Morty sat down at the table across from Summer, who had the wisdom to be wearing earphones. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and pulled out his math textbook to go over what Jessica had attempted to try to teach him.

“You're actually studying?” Summer asked, pulling out one earbud.

“There's a test today,” Morty explained.

“I don't think I've ever seen you study.”

Rick entered the room and Morty tried not to look at him. “Math is his favorite subject,” Rick said, words dripping with sarcasm. “Ever since he figured out he could get Jessica to come over for it.”

“Grandpa's just jealous, Morty, don't listen to him,” Summer said and turned around to glare at Rick.

“Jealous!? Of a teenage girl!?”

“If the shoe fits,” Summer returned.

“It's okay, Summer, you- you don't have to defend me or anything. I just want to finally pass a test this year is all."

He looked back down at his textbook, ignoring both of them. Alright, so he had to solve for x… 

 

X

 

For the first time in memory, Morty was confident he at least got a C. And now, with that accomplished, all he wanted to do was go back home and go to bed.

Instead, a portal opened up right next to the door to his English class, and Rick stepped out. He looked around anxiously and then spotted Morty.

“Listen, Rick, I'm really not in the mood, okay?”

“Good thing I don't care,” Rick said, and grabbed Morty's arm and began to pull him towards the portal.

Morty yanked his arm away and Rick looked at him. “I said I'm not in the mood.”

Rick looked at him curiously, as if actually seeing him for the first time, and Morty almost crumbled under his gaze, almost said fine, fuck it, have it your way, Rick. Almost. But he stared back at Rick intensely, unmoving. In Rick's eyes he saw that inevitable anger, the outrage that Morty could have ever said no to him, and the ever present desire to take what he wanted anyway, which Morty was half assuming Rick would do. He braced himself for Rick to grab him, push him, otherwise force him to go through the portal.

Rick shrugged.

“Your loss,” he said cryptically.

“I doubt it,” Morty replied. “But feel free to come into my room drunk and tell me all about it in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah? So that's what we're doing now?”

“Well it's not like you'll tell me anything in any other way, apparently,” Morty said, voice rising with each word.

“You wanna talk?” Rick put on his best patronizing tone. “Is that it? Is Grandpa not paying enough attention to your feelings?”

“Fuck you, Rick,” Morty spat.

“I'm a little confused, was that an offer or an insult? Help me out here.”

Morty could scream. He spun around on his heel and walked briskly in the other direction, despite the fact that he was right outside of his English class. Rick followed him, and began whistling a happy sounding tune as he did. Morty balled up his fists and punched the nearest locker, ignoring the pain. The locker now had a decent dent in it and Morty could've felt prideful, but he knew it was just because they were made out of cheap material in the first place. Rick's happy tune died, and was replaced with a heavy, judgemental silence.

“I can't do this with you,” Morty said, pointing at Rick. “You're confusing as hell, you know that?”

“I'M confusing? Morty-”

“-yes, you're confusing. At least I know what I want-”

“-oh, you do? Enlighten me, because all I see is-”

“-stop interrupting me! God, you're such an-”

“-asshole? Why, is it because-”

“-it's because you do this! Constantly! Rick, I don't know how much more of this I can take. I'm so confused about everything and you're just making it worse.”

Morty slid down the row of lockers to the floor, and clenched and unclenched his fist to ease the pain of having just punched metal. Above him, Rick didn't move, just looked down at him, expressionless.

“Maybe I was wrong about you not needing a therapist,” Rick said.

“Yeah, because I'm the crazy one. Just go, Rick. Do whatever it is you were gonna do.”

So he did. Rick stared at him a moment longer, and then turned around and left. 

 

X

 

When Morty returned home from school, he made a beeline for the garage, and burst in without knocking.

“Rick?”

Dead silence.

Morty breathed a sigh of relief and left the garage to go upstairs to his room. Between last night's events, the test, and then Rick showing up at his school, today had been one of the most emotionally taxing in a long while, and he just wanted to go to sleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to if Rick was anywhere near him. Even anywhere in the house. At least before he knew where he stood with Rick, now he wasn't so sure. Rick was his asshole grandfather who drank too much, didn't care about anyone or anything, and was, as far as Morty knew, impervious to both physical attacks and emotional appeals. And Morty was the idiot grandson who didn't have anything to offer other than brainwaves and the occasional comic relief, usually due to either his profound stupidity in Rick's eyes or some especially witty insult delivered to someone Rick didn't respect. But now? Who was Rick to him? And if he didn't know who Rick was, how could he know who he was in relation to Rick?

Morty locked his door and stripped off his shirt and jeans to climb into bed when he heard his phone buzz from the pocket of his jeans in a short burst, alerting him to a text message. He pulled his phone out from the pocket and unlocked it to see that it was from Jessica.

Hey, it read.

And then, two seconds later, it buzzed again: wanna hang out?

And then, five seconds later, as he was opening the message to reply: we could study some more, or just chill?

Just chilling with Jessica sounded like a great plan, if not a surreal dream, but he looked at his bed longingly. Sleep… or Jessica?

Sleep could wait.

Sure, my place? He typed out.

Of course, he wasn't sure he still had the same kind of feelings he used to for the girl, not after everything they'd been through and her already rejecting him in one way or another more times than could be counted, but the idea of her going out of her way to be his friend filled him with butterflies anyway. Platonic butterflies. Nobody had really wanted to be his friend before, except maybe for Rick, and he'd hardly count that as an actual friendship. More of a constant test of his patience, adaptability, intelligence, constitution, morality…

His phone buzzed. I'll be over in a bit, Jessica had replied.

He hastily threw his clothes back on, and then his phone buzzed yet again. You mind if I bring my friend?

That's ok I guess, he typed out, and then backspaced to remove the 'i guess’ before sending. Jessica he was cool with, but the thought of having two girls over made him slightly anxious, especially because she didn't specify which friend. Not that he'd really recognize them by name, but a name would have eased at least some of the sudden panic, presumably. But he didn't want to blow his chances of her coming over by being a dick like, no, I just want you, screw your friend.

It wasn't very long before his doorbell rang, and he scrambled downstairs to answer it before Summer could and possibly say something embarrassing to them. When he opened the door there was Jessica and a taller, brown haired girl he'd definitely seen at school before, but only noticed in passing, usually just because she was standing right next to Jessica.

“Hey,” he said, trying and failing to not be awkward.

He led them both inside, and Jessica introduced her friend. “Morty, this is Amanda, Amanda, this is Morty.”

“I've seen him,” she said, nonplussed.

“I've talked to her about you and your grandpa,” Jessica continued, ignoring Amanda's lack of enthusiasm, if she noticed it at all. “She didn't believe me that he had a sci-fi lab in your garage.”

Taking the hint, Morty laughed, and cursed himself inwardly for how unhinged the laugh must have sounded. “Y-yeah, it's true. Do you wanna see it?”

“I guess,” Amanda said.

Morty turned around to lead them to the garage, taking the opportunity to roll his eyes where they couldn't see him do it. What a wet blanket this friend was turning out to be.

They followed him to the door of the garage, and Morty hesitated for a second before opening the door a fraction. “Rick?” He called out.

Nothing. Thankfully.

He pushed the door open all the way and entered, the two girls trailing behind him. “This is it,” he explained. He gestured to the entirety of the room, and waited for one of them to say something.

“What's that?” Amanda asked, heading over to a device on the counter.

“Oh, you probably shouldn't touch- oh, okay, pick it up, that's fine.” Morty walked over to her and gently took the device out of her hands. “I actually don't know what this is,” he admitted, “it must be something new he's working on.”

He placed it gingerly back on the counter as if it might explode. And, knowing Rick, that really wasn't far outside the realm of possibility. It didn't look like a bomb, but you could never be too sure, and he really wasn't in the mood to be defusing anything.

“What's the button on it do?” Amanda asked.

“I… I don't know, I've never seen it before,” Morty said. If he was stupid, this girl must be something else. Hadn't he just said he didn't know what it was?

Before he could stop her, Amanda reached out and pressed the button, and Morty winced, bracing for impact. And nothing happened.

“A bit anticlimactic,” Jessica criticized.

“That's not a bad thing, trust me, the stuff Rick makes in here, you don't want-”

And then there was a bright flash of blue light, momentarily blinding Morty. When he regained his sight, the three of them appeared to be at some kind of seedy alien bar. A band was playing in the corner, filling the room with some kind of swing music with lyrics in an alien language he couldn't understand. Around them were booths full of different types of aliens, all looking at them with either detached interest or equally detached confusion. At the bar sat an array of none too friendly faces, and a bartender who didn't look up from the shot they were pouring for the blue haired humanoid in front of them who Morty immediately recognized as Rick.

“Oh my God,” Amanda breathed in awe.

“Oh wow, Morty, where are we?” Jessica asked, grabbing onto his arm. There were the butterflies again. Morty did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“I don't know, but I know how to find out,” he said, and led the girls over to Rick, who was deeply engrossed in conversation with the alien sitting next to him, a dark green, presumably female judging by the large breasts, alien with a shaved head and four eyes.

“... that's incredible, what did you do then?” The alien woman was saying, tone overly flirtatious.

“I killed him,” Rick said, and took the shot he'd just been poured. He slammed it back on the table and gestured to the bartender to pour him another. “Nobody fucks with me, baby, not for long.”

The alien giggled and reached over to place her hand over Rick's. “I can see that,” she said. “So… do you want to get out of here?”

Rick knocked back the next shot and stood up, only wobbling slightly. “That's the- that's the plan, sweetheart. Let's get out of here.” He took her hand and helped her stand up, and then looked up, his eyes locking with Morty's. The self satisfied smirk on his face immediately melted away to shock, confusion, and then anger upon seeing not only Morty, but also Jessica and Amanda.

“I hate to interrupt,” Morty snapped.

The alien turned around to face him, looking down at him in confusion, and Morty ignored her, looking only at Rick, who shoved his hands in the pocket of his labcoat and glared down at him. “You touched my shit,” Rick said, accusatory.

“No, Amanda did.”

Amanda waved at Rick, smiling, and then stopped when she realized Rick wasn't looking at her.

“You were in my garage,” Rick amended.

“They wanted to see your stuff,” Morty argued. “But that doesn't matter, I just want to get home.”

Rick pulled out his portal gun and shot a portal into the wall. “Okay, bye,” he said, and took the alien’s hand again.

“You- you- you know, you're something else, Rick,” Morty said, eyes dropping to their entwined fingers.

“I'm a fucking genius,” Rick said. “And also about to go get laid, so if you don't mind…”

The alien woman giggled again and hid her face in Rick's shoulder in mock embarrassment, and Morty shook his head in disbelief.

“Well, have fun with your low hanging fruit or whatever,” Morty said, and ushered the girls through the portal.

“I will,” Rick said confidently. “Wouldn't hurt you to have some fun with your own low hanging fruit.”

He turned to the alien. “Do you even know his name?” He asked her.

“I, uh..” she looked at Rick expectantly, and he shrugged in response.

“Didn't think so,” Morty sighed, and left through the portal. 

 


	5. little talks

Rick didn't come home that night. Or the next night. And, eventually, Morty decided he didn't care if Rick ever came back home, only to feel angry and abandoned the next second. He switched between anger, confusion, acceptance, longing, and back to anger again. He wasn't actually mad at Rick for hooking up with someone, but then again, he was. He didn't care if Rick never came back, but then again, he did. A lot.

Morty was playing Minecraft in his room when he heard a knock at the door. “It's open,” he called out, and his mother opened the door.

“Hey! It's Saturday,” she said.

“It is,” he agreed.

“And you know what that means?” His mom walked over and sat down at the edge of his bed.

“That uh… I'm not at school?”

“Family time,” she corrected. “Everybody agreed we'd go see a movie, remember?”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Morty shut his laptop and tried to remember the conversation in which any of this was decided. He drew a blank. Lately time had been determined in interactions with Rick, not conversations with family.

Beth patted Morty's knee and stood up. “So get ready, we're gonna leave in half an hour.”

It took Morty at least fifteen minutes to muster up the energy to get up from bed. He didn't want to move, much less go see a movie. A depression he hadn't realized had been there suddenly reared its head, leaving him nearly paralyzed with negative self talk. How could he get up and get dressed when he was too busy focusing on how stupid and useless and pathetic he was? How much of a burden he was on everyone around him? How purely, incredibly awful he was? But somehow, with the strength of ten men, he found his way downstairs to join the rest of his family.

“When was the last time you took a shower?” Summer asked him bluntly.

Morty tried to remember, and couldn't. He shrugged.

“That's so gross,” she muttered under her breath. “Your hair is such a mess.”

He went to the bathroom to look at himself, and wasn't at all pleased with what he saw. His hair was indeed a mess, and greasy on top of it. He had impressive bags under his eyes, and… was that acne forming around his jawline? He grabbed the bottle of Summer's face wash and vigorously scrubbed at his face with it until his skin was bright pink, and then washed it away with ice cold water. It didn't help much, but he felt fractionally cleaner. It wasn't like him to forget basic hygiene. But apparently some things get left behind when you're too busy hating yourself.

“Alright, everybody ready?” Jerry asked when he returned to the living room, car keys already in his hand.

“Yep,” Beth said, smiling at both Summer and Morty. “Let's go.”

 

X

 

The movie was forgettable. Something sci-fi with lots of action and some cookie cutter aliens and a half hearted attempt at an emotional ending. Morty couldn't remember any of the characters as soon as they left the theater, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen done a thousand times before.

“I thought that was a great movie!” Jerry said excitedly once they were back to the car.

“You would, dad,” Summer said, and she and Morty exchanged glances.

He could almost hear Rick now, delivering some destructive insult about Jerry's intelligence and interests. But he wasn't there, so the car ride home was quiet and peaceful, Summer texting, Morty looking out the window, Beth and Jerry discussing dinner plans, the radio playing some inane pop music that Morty didn't recognize but put him in a good mood anyway. Today was shaping up to be an 'I don't care if Rick comes back or not’ day. Maybe he'd take a shower when they got home. And then work on Minecraft some more, or watch TV, or call up Jessica. The possibilities seemed endless.

He was going to be okay. 

 

X

 

Rick groaned and rubbed at his eyes, leaning up from where he'd been passed out on the floor. He was getting too old to be sleeping on the floor like that, and all his joints were cursing him for it. All around him were other still sleeping bodies, and blinking, he looked around, slowly recognizing his surroundings as Squanchy’s place.

How the hell had he ended up here?

Shakily, he stood up and headed to where he remembered the kitchen being, careful not to step on anyone's sprawled out limbs. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found an appropriate drinking glass and filled it with water, and pulled out a bottle of pills from his labcoat and popped three of them down his throat and chased them with the water. The past three days were a blur. He had to stop going on benders like this. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist and an only slightly familiar voice whispered in his ear.

“Hello, lover.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin, and spun around to see a green, mostly humanoid alien woman.

“Oh... You…”

“Yes, me,” she giggled, and leaned up to kiss him. He allowed it, but didn't kiss her back. That much, anyway. Truthfully, he couldn't remember her name. Not that it mattered, but it made him somewhat uncomfortable that a nearly total stranger felt confident enough to playfully sneak up on him like that. It had been an awful long time since he willingly lived the kind of life where that was commonplace.

“Listen,” he said, once she pulled away from him, a pout on her lips. “I should take you home. I've- I should get home myself.”

“Awwwww,” she whined.

“Or I could leave you here if you keep making that noise,” he said. He rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

“Don't be a dick.”

“I am a dick,” he countered. “So what'll it be?”

She crossed her arms. “You weren't such a buzzkill last night.”

“I bet. So, home, or…?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “But you promised me breakfast.”

“I bet I promised you a lot of shit, sweetheart, doesn't mean I meant it.”

“So that's it? You tell me you love me, and then-”

“- I what now? That- No, that doesn't sound like something I'd say at all. Listen, I don't care about you at all. I don't know you.”

“You beat up my ex boyfriend for me!”

“Okay, that sounds a little more like me, but I assure you, it probably wasn't for the reasons you're thinking. I just like showing off, because I can. I'm sure you're real nice, but trust me, I'm not the guy for you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I disagree.”

“Yeah, well, I don't care about your opinion,” he said, unwrapping himself from her grip with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “I don't even know your name.”

“Seriously!? I told you my name! You almost got it tattooed on your arm!”

“Well thank God for small miracles,” he snapped. “You don't know the first thing about me.”

“You're Rick, you're a human from Earth, and you're the strongest, most intelligent man I've ever met.”

“Yeah, and that's why I'm taking you home now, and why I'm never going to see you again. Because I'm way too smart to fall for someone like you.”

So he took her home, ignoring her quiet seething and, at times, unashamed crying. But once he was alone, he wasn't so sure he wanted to go home himself. Not that he wanted to do anything else either though, so he gathered up all of his strength and courage and went home. He sat in the garage doing absolutely nothing for a few minutes before braving walking in to see his family. Things weren't the same since his daughter got back together with Jerry. He could disappear for days at a time and nobody really noticed, except maybe for Morty, and Morty…

Well, things just weren't the same.

He couldn't seem to go two seconds without screwing that kid up in new, amazing ways. It was fun, sometimes, to expose Morty to new experiences on their adventures, see the kid's eyes light up as he made connections and learned how to navigate the universe, sometimes even surprising Rick at how much he was able to learn and take in at once. One time, Morty singlehandedly stopped a civil war from breaking out on an alien planet they'd been visiting, just by sheer determination and diplomacy skills Rick previously hadn't known the kid had in him. Whereas Rick almost encouraged the war, seeing all the ways he could benefit from it. They'd fought so hard that adventure, but Morty won, and they ended up erecting a statue of him in his honor. How many teenagers could say that? That they'd essentially saved an entire planet? Morty had this streak of pure goodness in him that Rick both resented and envied, and it was like no matter what awful things Rick did, Morty always took the high road in spite of it.

But Rick couldn't help but take advantage. And that's what it was, nothing else, no excuses. Rick pushed him to his limit every time, always tested boundaries. So it was really just more of the same that, after Morty kissed him, he'd try and test that boundary too. But this was different. He could put Morty in life threatening situations, get him to do things he didn't want to do, abuse him in every way possible, but this crossed the line, and Rick knew it, and it made him sick. He was taking advantage of a teenager who he'd done nothing but hurt. What Morty apparently felt for him was wrong. He wasn't entirely sure of the depth of these feelings, but they were enough to make him kiss Rick when he was drunk and then kiss him again when he was stone cold sober. More than just kiss him, really, Rick remembering the feeling of Morty's hips grinding against his own. He didn't want to think about how far Morty would have let him go, the very idea of it leading further than it already had was enough to make his stomach tighten uncomfortably in guilt and something else far more primal that he didn't want to acknowledge.

Morty was a good kid. He had no business with Rick. But that didn't mean Rick was going to stop.

He walked inside, and there was his family, watching TV. Summer was engrossed in the TV show, which just by listening to a few words of dialogue he recognized as something both from Earth and not worth his time. Beth and Jerry were curled up together at the end of the couch, Beth fast asleep on Jerry's shoulder. He should be happy for them, maybe, but he couldn't bring himself to it. Their marriage had withstood everything he could throw at it, and it pissed him off. It was probably his fault, though. If he'd been there for her as she was growing up maybe she wouldn't be so attached to the lowest common denominator of humanity. Say what you would about Jerry, he knew that what he had was unimaginably out of his league and held onto it with his inferior little claws as tightly as he could, and it seemed to actually be paying off. And then there was Morty, who was sitting on the armchair, texting on his phone. Who he could possibly be talking to was beyond Rick's imagination, and the idea of Morty having a social life was ranked at number one in things he should be happy about but couldn't be.

“Hey Rick,” Jerry whispered as not to wake his sleeping wife.

“Hey, Jerry,” he said, uncharacteristically amicable. He sat down on the couch next to Summer, and looked over at Morty.

Still texting.

“Hey, Rick. We're watching One Percent vs Nature. It's just a bunch of rich people trying to survive in the wild. It's awesome,” Summer explained.

Rick hummed in acknowledgement, and stared at the television without actually watching. And then he felt Morty's eyes on him, and he looked over at the teenager. Morty gave him a meaningful look, and then got up and headed for the kitchen. Taking the hint, Rick stood and followed Morty.

“We need to talk,” Morty said quietly, pushing himself up to sit on the counter.

“Can't imagine what about,” Rick lied.

“We could talk about that night, for starters,” Morty said.

So the kid wasn't going to let it go. “You mean the night of the party, where you k-”

“Shhhh,” Morty hissed.

“Oh, so we're supposed to talk about it without actually talking about it? Great plan, Morty, what's next, code names? I'll be Eagle One, you can be-”

“-shut up, Rick-”

“-Eagle Two. If you want. Or maybe something like Iceman or Maverick. That'd be killer. It's decided, you're Maverick now.”

“Are you done?”

“... Yeah, I'm done.”

Morty sighed. “Maybe let's go somewhere we can actually talk.”

Rick looked at him curiously. “Is that what you want?”

“I wouldn't ask for it if it wasn't,” Morty snapped. “I don't do things I don't want to do, Rick,” he said, and Rick caught the meaning, even though it was almost entirely a lie. Morty did things he didn't want to do all the time.

“Alright,” Rick said, and led Morty to the garage and they climbed up into his ship wordlessly. They didn't say anything to each other until they were surrounded by stars and not much else.

“Well?” Rick turned to Morty. “This is your party, kid.”

Morty took a shaky breath. “I… need to honest, Rick.”

“You think?” Rick snorted.

“Just let me finish, okay? I- I think… I don't know, okay, you've really confused me. I don't know what to do now. I know I messed up by kissing you. I shouldn't have done that. I was drunk and I let my feelings take over. Because I have those. Feelings, I mean. For you. God, this is so messed up.” Morty covered his face in his hands.

Rick wanted to comfort him somehow, but he sat completely still, frozen by the sudden confession.

Morty continued. “That's why I went back to therapy. I thought it would help, but she's useless I think. It's not like she can just take it away, and I was probably really stupid for thinking it works that way, but I don't know, Rick, I get why I did what I did, and I can make peace with that, but I don't get why you did what you did. Were you just fucking with me? Trying to teach me a lesson or something? You come into my room and lay some heavy shit on me and basically ask me to kiss you again and then it's like nothing happened? What's your deal?”

“You want the truth?”

“That's the whole point of trying to talk to you, yeah,” Morty said. “I can't handle not knowing what's going on anymore, Rick.”

“Alright, fine.” Rick felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “I don't know how to deal with your shit, Morty. You think you can just kiss me and then recover from it on your own and you don't tell me shit until right now. I'm not the one who decided to act like nothing happened, that was you, by deciding to keep all this bullshit to yourself. Which, pretty fucked up, by the way. So I'm left to figure out what's going on with you by myself, so yeah, sue me if I went about it the wrong way, but I had to know if you were just being an idiot that one time or if you were genuinely that stupid all the time.”

“So… that was it? You just wanted to figure out if it was a one time thing or if you could get away with it happening again?”

Rick sighed in exasperation. “No, Morty, I wanted to figure out what was going on with you. Not like you were going to actually talk to me about it.”

“Bullshit, Rick. You've never cared about what's going on with me.”

“Okay, first of all, ouch. Second of all, true. You caught me. Obviously the truth is that there's something about you that's addictive to me, and I figured I had an opportunity, so I took it.”

“Oh my God, Rick, can't you just tell me the truth? Is it really that difficult for you? Like, who hurt you?”

“It's really not my problem if you don't like what I have to say.”

Morty crossed his arms and stared out the window, refusing to look at Rick. “So you're not lying when you say I'm just- just an opportunity to you? Nothing more?”

“Hey, okay, I sure as hell didn't mean it like that-”

“-how could that possibly mean anything else-”

“-I don't know, why don't you ask your therapist-”

“-oh, that again, you just can't get over it-”

“-because I'm supposed to be cool with you going to a therapist for this, you might as well be going to a fortune teller about it, let's go see what's in the cards, Morty, or what the alignment of planets has to say-”

“-you just don't like that I'm trying! I'm supposed to just lay down and take everything you do to me! But that's over, Rick! You either treat me like an equal or you don't treat me like anything at all!”

Rick was silent.

“Can you do that?” Morty asked quietly. “Is that even possible for you?”

“I'm sorry, Morty, but you're not my equal.”

“Yeah. I'm an idiot and you're the smartest being in the multiverse. I get it. Maybe that's true when it comes to science, or getting away with shit, or whatever, but fuck, Rick, at least I can be honest about my emotions.”

“Yeah? Then what are your emotions exactly, Morty?” Rick was fishing and he knew it, but he was too far gone to care. He needed to hear Morty say it. More than just 'I have feelings’. That meant nothing.

“I care about you!” Morty snapped. “I love you! It's not like I haven't told you that before.”

“So tell me something I don't know for once.”

“Fine. How about I thought about kissing you way before I actually did it? That yeah, I'd had way too much to drink, but I still wanted it?” And then, quieter, “I did it sober too. If you remember.”

“Why!?”

“Because you're…” Morty huffed, clearly debating if what he was about to say was something he actually wanted to say. “Because you're you, okay? You're such a fucking asshole, and I hate you at times, but I still want…”

“Want what?” Rick pressed.

“You. Maybe I'm just being an idiot teenager, but what I feel is real to me. And what I feel is that I want you. And maybe I can't explain it right now, in a way that's good enough for you, but… I feel something. Like nothing else matters but us, sometimes, you know, like, I wouldn't do the things I've done with you with anyone else. And not just because it would be literally impossible, but because nobody else is you. I know you. I can even tell who you are out of room full of different versions of you. You're my Rick, and I'm… I don't know…”

“You're my Morty,” Rick said, a finality in his tone. “And you're right.”

“About what?”

“That nothing else matters but us.”

Morty didn't say anything, and Rick didn't feel the need to fill the silence. So they sat together, saying nothing. Until Morty looked over at him, and said, “your turn.”

“Morty…”

“No, Rick, fuck you, I just spilled my guts to you, it's literally the least you can do to explain yourself back.”

Rick reached into his coat and pulled out his flask, only for Morty to snatch it out of his hand.

“No. If I have to do it sober, so do you.”

Rick reached over to take it back, but Morty's grip was surprisingly strong, and Rick found himself leaning over Morty, trying to pry it from his hands. They struggled until Rick was entirely on Morty's side of the ship, towering over the teenager, close enough to feel Morty's panting breaths on his neck. They noticed how close they'd become at the same moment, and they both froze. A second later Rick took advantage of Morty's momentary paralysis and took the flask back, unscrewed it, and took a few healthy swallows of liquor. He returned it back to his coat and looked down at Morty, who was looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

“Rick, you-”

“-shut up, Morty,” Rick sighed, and leaned down slowly until their lips were centimeters away from touching. And he pushed forward, pressing them together. He knelt between Morty's legs and reached up to take Morty's face in his hands. Rick broke off the kiss and instead kissed his way down Morty's jawline, down to his neck, covering it in kisses before pausing at his collarbone. He gave it a light kiss and then sucked down on it, causing Morty to gasp and grab onto Rick. Rick softly bit down, and upon feeling Morty's fingers squeeze into his shoulders, sank his teeth in deeper, earning a strangled noise from Morty that was most definitely praise. And then Rick pulled away, and looked up at Morty, eyes dark.

“How's that?”

“What…?” Morty asked, panting.

“For an explanation.”

Morty blinked, as if he'd forgotten their entire conversation. “I don't know, Rick, I'm still confused on a few points,” he said.

So Rick returned to Morty's neck, harshly sucking the skin into his mouth, and, egged on by soft, unashamed moans, slipped his hands underneath Morty's shirt and ran his fingernails roughly down Morty's sides. He was all over Morty's neck, covering it in bright pink spots, and felt the teenager buck his hips against him with desperation. Rick pulled away to examine his handiwork, ignoring the noticeable hardness in Morty's jeans.

“That's definitely going to bruise,” he said, and moved over to sit back down in his own seat.

“What is?” Morty asked, dazed.

“Your neck.”

Morty reached up to touch his neck, and pulled his hand away to look at it as if expecting there to be blood. He leaned back against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, and Rick took the opportunity to look him over, take in the sight of Morty almost completely undone, and with Rick having barely done anything. Morty's chest rose and fell in quick succession, and he reached down to palm at himself through his jeans, only to quickly pull his hand away as if remembering that Rick was right next to him. 

“Jesus, Rick, that was… wow. Okay.”

“That was nothing,” Rick said.

“If that was nothing, I don't know if I could handle something,” Morty laughed.

“Probably couldn't,” Rick agreed, “and that'll make it all the more fun for me.”

“So… that'll happen again?”

Rick hesitated.

Fuck it.

“Only if you want it to.”

“I do,” Morty said, too quickly, and Rick couldn't help but laugh at the eagerness.

“Let's go home,” Rick said through his laughter.

Morty fell asleep on the way home, and Rick glanced over every now and then, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He turned on music so he wouldn't be left entirely alone with his thoughts, but it only helped ease the guilt creeping up on him marginally. He was the idiot, not Morty. He was the sick one, not Morty. He should be the one in therapy, not Morty. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. The fact that he was able to do that, and so easily, so naturally, as if it was meant to happen, filled him with dread and heightened the self hatred that had always been there with him anyway.

They arrived home and Rick pushed at Morty's shoulder to wake him up. “We're here. You go back inside, I'm gonna be in the garage.”

“You sure?” Morty's eyes held concern and Rick wanted to crawl out of his skin.

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

Once Morty left and Rick was left alone, he broke down. He didn't cry, he wasn't sure he was capable of crying sober. Instead he growled in rage and threw everything off the counters. He grabbed random devices and experiments from the shelves and threw them at the cement until the entire floor was covered in broken pieces and shattered glass. And, shaking, he slid to the floor, pulling out his flask and emptying the rest of its contents down his throat. He threw the empty flask at the wall for good measure.

He didn't deserve to live.


	6. power play

Out of all the things Morty was prepared to deal with, the open, unabashed staring at his neck from literally everyone somehow hadn't made the list. Summer nearly spat out her mouthful of juice as he sat down to have breakfast with his family the following morning.

“Do you want to borrow some of my foundation?” She offered, not taking her eyes away from his neck.

Morty flushed, vaguely remembering Rick's words from last night. That's definitely going to bruise.

“Is it that bad?” Morty asked.

“It's not good,” Beth said, judgement clear.

“Who's the lucky girl?” Jerry asked, and then, “what!?” upon seeing Beth glare at him.

“Your son is covered in hickies and you just care about who the girl is?”

“Well, I was about his age when, you know…”

“I don't even remember you leaving the house,” Summer said curiously, moving her eyes up from Morty's neck to look in his eyes. 

“It's none of your business,” Morty said defensively, and looked over at Rick for help, but Rick was too busy tinkering with some new device to even look up, much less be paying attention.

“Probably some alien girl, right? I don't think any girl at school would want to hook up with you,” Summer said.

“Oh, jeez, thanks for that,” Morty said, though secretly thankful the conversation had steered past interrogation and into banter. “I don't see anybody hooking up with you either, you know.”

“Or maybe I'm a little more discreet than you. Seriously, you need to use something to cover that up, you can't go out in public like that.”

“It's trashy,” Beth agreed.

Morty shrugged and poured himself a glass of juice. “I don't mind it.”

Rick looked up then, and his eyes settled around the ring of bruises around Morty's neck. He let out a low whistle. “I have something that can fix that up in a few seconds,” Rick offered.

“I don't mind it,” Morty repeated.

Rick looked like he had a million things to say to that, but said none of them. Instead he gave Morty a purely lustful look and excused himself from the table. “Right. Well, I'll be in the garage if anyone needs me. Thank you for breakfast, Beth, it was wonderful,” he said, giving Beth a light kiss on her forehead before leaving, device he was working on in hand.

Morty wanted to go follow Rick, see if that look had any potential for physical follow through, but he figured it was best to stay right where he was. Last night he'd gotten the best night of sleep he'd had in ages, and he knew it was all because of Rick. Things could be good now. He was unsure where any of this was going to lead, but it felt like it was finally out of his hands now. He'd done his part, been honest with Rick, and Rick had been honest with him. Well, as honest as he was ever going to get out of Rick, anyway, and not really in the form of words, but Morty felt like the pulsing feeling around his neck was a good enough confession all the same.

But some nagging intuition told him he shouldn't press the issue. As much as he wanted to. 

 

X

 

“How have you been feeling, Morty?” Dr. Wong asked. She folded her hands on her lap.

“Great, actually,” Morty said, pulling at his sleeve nervously. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to talking to a therapist, but he kept coming back, so he supposed it must not be that bad. “I think Rick and I have something worked out.”

“And what is that?”

“Well…” And just like that, his confidence wavered. “I told him how I felt. About him. And he seemed okay with it, I think, based on his reaction.”

Dr. Wong pulled out her notepad and scratched down a few sentences. “What was his reaction?”

Morty blushed and gestured vaguely at his neck. “Well, he did that…”

Dr. Wong didn't react, and Morty began to sweat under the weight of her expressionless gaze. He shouldn't have told her that. That was supposed to be a secret, he was sure, and now she was going to ruin everything somehow, there was no way around it, she'd call CPS or something, she'd tell him that it was wrong, she'd guilt trip him into cutting Rick off, or worse, she'd want to talk to Rick herself. He shouldn't even be here, Rick told him as much, he was such an idiot, a stupid, stupid-

“Morty?”

“Y-yeah?”

“You're hurting yourself.”

Morty realized he'd been sinking his nails into his arm, and pulled his hand away from his arm as if it was on fire. “Sorry. I just. You're not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“I told you our first session that what you say here is confidential. I won't tell anyone anything you say here, unless you are in immediate danger or in danger of hurting someone else. Do you feel in danger?”

“No,” he said, too quickly. And then, slower, with more thought, “Do you think I'm in danger?”

“I think that what you've been through is a lot for anyone to go through. I think your mind is handling it better than it could be, given your situation. I do not condone the actions of your grandfather, I believe he's the adult in the situation and isn't being good to you. I believe he puts you in danger on a daily basis and has since he came back into your life. I want our sessions here to be productive, so I believe it would be best if we set goals to work towards. What do you want to get out of our time here together?”

Morty looked down at his feet. He couldn't think of anything. At first, he started coming because he wanted the inappropriate thoughts to stop, but that ship had sailed, and he didn't want what he had with Rick now to stop. In fact, he wanted it to continue, and go even further. Even if it was only physical. Even if Rick didn't love him. The thought was depressing to say the least, but making out in his bed or on the ship didn't exactly mean that Rick had any of his own feelings.

“Can I get back to you on that?” Morty asked. 

“Of course, Morty. Let's consider that your homework for next session, to come up with at least one thing that you would like to improve and work on for our time here.”

“I liked it,” Morty said then. “Him kissing me and stuff. There's always so much tension been us, and it helped, I think. Or it will help. I've been keeping it all to myself for so long, it felt nice to know that I'm not the only one who has been feeling that way.”

“Do you think Rick shares your feelings?”

“No. Not really. But I'm willing to take what I can get,” he said, laughing nervously. “Mostly I just mean that he's willing to do stuff with me, so. I'm not completely alone in it.”

“Do you often feel alone?”

“Yeah. Right now I really only have Rick, and maybe Jessica, this girl from my school who hangs out with me sometimes.”

“And you also have me, now,” Dr. Wong said. “Tell me more about Jessica.”

“Well, I used to have a huge crush on her, but it never really went anywhere. We went on a date once, one time when Rick and I had all of the negative parts of our personalities removed, long story, but it didn't work out. I guess… we're better off friends?”

“It's very mature of you to realize when friendship is a better option,” Dr. Wong said pointedly, and Morty blushed, taking the hint.

“Y-yeah… You think I should stop things with Rick.”

Dr. Wong didn't acknowledge the comment. Instead, she said, “I look forward to hearing what goals you have to set for us next session, Morty.”

On the car ride home, he was thankful that it was his mom was the one to pick him up. It was easier to abstain from bursting into tears with her influence around, but it wasn't enough to stop him from immediately going to his room as soon as they got home and screaming into a pillow. And it was far more therapeutic than his session with his therapist. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to go back, not if he was going to be told that Rick “wasn't being good” to him, whatever that meant. Morty knew what Rick not being good to him looked like, and by comparison, he was being the best he'd ever been. Dr. Wong just didn't understand their relationship.

He wasn't quite sure he understood it either, but if he didn't understand it, there was little chance anyone else could.

 

X

 

Rick was left alone with his thoughts, and that was, as he'd learned a long time ago, a dangerous place to be, but he couldn't exactly run away again. Not without Morty jumping down his throat when he got back, or worse, finding a way to track him down again. Though, admittedly, the last time Morty showed up where Rick was unexpectedly, it had been an accident.

Whatever was happening between them, it had to stop. Not because Rick was such a great guy whose altruistic spirit led him to want better things for Morty, but because of the opposite. He was a garbage person and wanted nothing more than for Morty to be at his beck and call at all times. Which wasn't so different than how he'd always felt, but now… now that he'd actually had the opportunity to act upon the thoughts he'd had, it felt like he'd broken something irreparable. He no longer had the luxury of pretending it wasn't a thing. It was. There was even physical evidence.

They needed an adventure. No weirdness, no tension, no physical contact. Just a plain, old-fashioned one off adventure like the good old days. Where Rick bullied Morty and they got shit done and had fun doing it. Or maybe they could go to Blips and Chitz again. Or maybe they could invite Summer to go along with them for something, that would certainly ensure they'd both behave themselves.

“Hey, Grandpa Rick, do you think I should take the job at Forever 21 or the job at Starbucks?” Summer asked him. He hadn't heard her come in.

“Neither,” he said. “Break free of your consumerist mindset, Summer, they both want to underpay you while having you work shit hours with shitty people.”

“I was thinking Forever 21. I'd like working at the mall.”

“Okay, then why did you ask me? Nevermind, I just remembered I don't give a shit. Have you seen Morty?”

“I think he's in his room. Why?”

“We're going on an adventure. And you're coming too.”

“I am? Where are we going?”

“A dimension where you ask less questions. Go get Morty.”

Summer left, and truthfully, Rick had already decided Blips and Chitz sounded like a fantastic idea. It had been too long since they'd just had fun for the sake of fun. When Summer returned with Morty, she looked all the kinds of excited that he didn't. Morty looked drained, and ready for a nap. Deciding to not pay that much attention to it, Rick carried right along. “Who's up for a trip to Blips and Chitz? Rhetorical question, we're going anyway.”

“What's that?” Summer asked.

“An alien arcade place,” Morty explained, lightening up a fraction. “They've got a ton of cool games.”

Rick opened up a portal and went through, not waiting for his grandkids to follow him. The neon lights shone down on him, and he took a deep breath. This was going to be okay. This was going to be good. Summer and Morty were quick behind him, and Rick opened his arms, gesturing to the whole place.

“Well, don't wait for me, go have fun!” He encouraged.

“We could do something two player,” Morty was saying to Summer, pointing at a game with two guns, headsets, and a large screen named ‘Monsterquake 10’. They headed over to the game and Rick took a moment to watch them grab the guns and start the game, which was a typical, if not offensively unoriginal, shooter game.

Rick was going to play something, but first, a drink.

 

X

 

“That was awesome,” Summer laughed, taking off her headset.

“You kinda suck at it though,” Morty teased, taking off his own headset and looking at his sister. “I was carrying you half the game.”

“You were not,” she protested.

“I got way more kills than you!”

“So? We won the game, didn't we? I'd like to see you try to do it by yourself.”

“Oh, I just remembered, they have this game called Roy here somewhere, where you play as this guy named Roy and live his life and stuff, we gotta check it out.”

“Sounds boring, isn't that just kind of like the Sims?”

“No way, this is totally different, it really immerses you in the game. I forgot where I even was the first time I played it.”

He grabbed Summer's hand and went to go find the game, which already had a crowd of people around it, watching an alien play though the game. Currently Roy was watching the birth of his third child, holding his wife's hand.

“Roy. A classic,” Rick said from behind them. 

The alien playing the game ended up losing at age 47, in a tragic car accident that killed not only him, but his entire family.

“You should play, Summer,” Morty encouraged.

So she sat down and put on the headset, and made it all the way to age 72 before dying of a major heart attack. She pulled off the headset shakily and looked around, dazed.

“Holy shit,” she said.

“I told you. Nothing like the Sims.”

 

X

 

They played games for hours, and it occurred to Morty that he hadn't had any negative thoughts about anything the whole time. Which, of course, brought every negative thought he'd ever had to the forefront of his mind.

Rick and Summer were playing some kind of game that relied upon memorization and strategy, and Summer was losing, badly, and Rick was heckling her the entire time. Seeing his opportunity to bail, Morty backed away slowly until he was sure they wouldn't notice him leaving, and then turned around and walked away, through crowds of aliens huddling around various games.

He wasn't sure where he wanted to go, he just knew he had to get away from Rick and Summer and be alone. He felt a full blown panic attack coming on, and couldn't even pinpoint why. Nothing had happened. They'd been having a pretty good time together, the three of them. He should be right there with them, still having fun himself. But he felt sick and dizzy and his heart was racing instead.

He wandered around, watching random people play games, until he stumbled across the bar, where he took a seat and tried to steady his emotions. The bartender made eye contact with him and headed over to him, and Morty wanted to wave him away, but found himself asking, “do you have any whiskey?”

Whiskey was the only thing he'd ever drank, and he knew he was used to it. So he was poured a glass half full of the stuff, and sat there sipping it, alone. And it actually did help take the edge off. The panic attack he felt creeping up on him was beaten back with every sip, and soon he felt like he was himself again. Or, the closest approximation of himself he could possibly be under the influence of alcohol. The bartender noticed his empty glass and asked if he wanted another, to which Morty replied, “yeah!” without thinking.

But if one drink was enough to make him feel better, another should make him feel great. The logic was flawless. He found himself tapping his feet along with the rhythm of whatever song was playing in the background, and, overly confident now, downed half of the glass at once. At first, it didn't seem like he'd just made a mistake. He was able to swallow it all just fine, and a few seconds later it caught up to him, the feeling of warmth all over that was starting to get familiar by now. So he took the rest of the contents of the glass as well. It was fine. He'd be fine. He was gonna be a pro at this at this rate. Getting drunk at the party seemed to have opened up a floodgate he hadn't known was there, and now he wanted to be overly familiar with alcohol. Maybe not to the point of Rick, but familiar enough. It was nice, and he liked it, and there wasn't any point feeling bad about liking things.

“There he is,” he heard Rick say from somewhere behind him. He turned around and saw Rick and Summer heading over to him.

“Rick! Summer!” Morty went to stand up, but moved too fast and stumbled over his own feet, almost falling. He burst into laughter at his clumsiness, and then stumbled again as the weight of gravity hit him.

“Are you drunk?” Summer asked.

Morty laughed in response.

“Grandpa, he's drunk.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Rick said. Disapproval was written all over his face, and it confused Morty. Why would, out of all people, Rick not want him to be drunk?

“I love you guys,” Morty said. “You guys-you guys are great, you know that? I don't say it enough. I love you guys. You guys are… yeah, wow, I just love you guys.”

“We get it, we're loved,” Summer said, rolling her eyes.

“I was feeling so bad, you guys. I felt bad. But now I'm fine! And everything is… everything is SO great,” he said loudly, not noticing his volume.

“That's great, Morty,” Rick said, it obviously not being great. “I think it's time to go home now.”

“Awww, but I wanted to-”

“-get drunk, apparently,” Rick cut him off.

“I love you,” Morty said again, this time in earnest. “I love you, Rick.”

Rick and Summer exchanged glances. “Yeah, going home sounds fine by me,” Summer said.

Morty felt his happy buzz fade away into something else, something sad. He'd messed up somehow, but he wasn't sure how. It couldn't really be that he'd drank a little, could it? That didn't make any sense. Neither of them had any room to judge. And he was being happy, very personable, it's not like he was being an angry drunk. He wasn't making any kind of scene. So what the big deal was, he couldn't grasp, and the not knowing swung his mood from happy straight to miserable.

Rick pulled out his portal gun and pointed at it, a clear order to go through, so Morty walked through. Or, rather, fell through, as he lost his balance halfway there and there was only the portal to grab onto. He fell flat on his face on the garage floor on the other side, and attempted to pull himself up by grabbing onto the counter, but then gave up and laid there on the floor. A feeling of awful deja vu washed over him, but he let it pass without focusing on it too much. Focusing was hard. He swore after only two drinks he was barely past the point of tipsy, or should have been. Alien whiskey must have been something stronger. Either that, or he was a pathetic lightweight.

Probably the latter.

Rick and Summer followed after him, and he tried to stand up again, this time succeeding. 

“That was fun,” Summer said, yawning. “But I think I'm gonna go to bed now. Goodnight.”

“Night Summer,” Morty called as she left, and then he and Rick were left alone.

Rick was in a mood. It wasn't one Morty could pinpoint though, so he stood still as he watched Rick immediately take to pulling out random vials and various odds and ends.

“Are you- you just gonna stand there watching me like a creep all night?” Rick asked, not making any attempts to hide the malice, and not looking up from his work.

“What's your problem?”

“You. You are my problem.”

“Because I had a few drinks? Like you're one to judge, Rick.”

“You're a kid! I take you to an arcade and you should be having fun, and, and what do you do? You have a ‘few drinks’,” Rick said, gesturing with air quotes.

“I don't get it. You didn't complain at the party, and I was way drunker then.”

Rick sighed. “Okay. I don't give a shit if you drink. But you get unpredictable when you drink. And I can't have that shit going down with Summer there.”

Realization hit Morty, and he couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter. “You thought I was going to kiss you again. In front of Summer. Seriously, Rick?”

“Yeah, seriously. You're a little psycho, I wouldn't put anything past you.”

“Rick, I'm not stupid.” And then, “Well, not that stupid, anyway…”

Rick ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Yeah, maybe not.”

“But… Summer's not here now.” Morty let the implication hang in the air between them, hoping Rick would take the hint.

He did.

Rick went over to the garage door and locked it, the sound making Morty's heart race. He then walked over to Morty and looked down at him, waiting.

“R-Rick…?”

“What?” He snapped. “If you want something to happen, you have to actually make it happen. I'm not doing your dirty work for you.”

“Is that some kind of power play?”

“No. This is a power play.”

Rick leaned down and kissed Morty with an unexpected tenderness, and Morty melted into it, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. And then Rick stopped, and pulled away, and went back to sit down in his chair. He looked at the vials on the counter with interest, not paying Morty any attention.

Morty huffed. “Really, Rick?”

“No idea what you're talking about,” Rick said, waving him away. “Now you can either make yourself useful and hand me a screwdriver or get out.”

“All this just to prove a point?”

“A flathead one, thanks.”

Resigned, Morty grabbed a screwdriver from the toolbox and slapped it down on the table in front of Rick before turning to leave.

“This is a Phillips,” Rick said disparagingly.

“Go fuck yourself,” Morty called back, and closed the garage door behind him. But once on the other side of the door, he grinned.

Rick had kissed him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated! And it only took two months of fucking around!! Hurray!!!
> 
> I'm gonna get better about replying to comments too bc I love all y'all who comment. And all y'all who leave kudos. And all y'all who silently watch from the shadows. 
> 
> Bless.


	7. friendzoned

Even according to Beth's standards, it was getting to be a late night. She was three glasses of wine deep, and had pulled out old family photos to cry over.

Most of them were of her, Jerry, and Summer, back in the very early days when she hadn't yet expected how unhappy she'd eventually become. And then lots of pictures of Morty as a toddler. Him learning to walk, holding onto the side of the couch for balance. Him covered in chocolate cake on his second birthday, him riding a little red tricycle, him on his first ever day of school. The memories felt simultaneously forever ago and also like they happened just yesterday. Time passed too quickly.

Truth was, she checked out of Morty's life a long time ago, and she didn't know how she felt about it. On one hand, horrible. She was a horrible excuse for a parent, letting Morty disappear for days without even asking where her father had taken him this time. On the other hand, everything was still okay. She hadn't lost him, he was just… further away than he once was. And wasn't the way that always went about the time kids became teenagers?

She took another sip of her wine and pulled out a rare picture of the five of them, her father included. It was Easter, from just last year. They were all actually smiling. It had been one of the few days in memory they'd all been together and actually stayed together the whole day. No tangents or side quests or fighting. They'd gotten through the whole holiday at each other's sides. A big part of her wished they had more days like that. A big part of her wished she knew how to not take her family and children for granted. She ran her thumb over the outline of her father's face and began to cry, slowly at first, and then with more feeling, until her body was wracked with quiet sobs.

And it was cathartic, until she heard soft footsteps entering the living room, and she immediately quieted, rubbing at her eyes.

“Hey?” Rick asked softly.

“Hey, dad,” she said, voice quavering. “I was just…” she looked down at the photo album and her voice trailed off.

He sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her, looking down at the photo album with her. “Just torturing yourself?” He asked lightly.

She flipped the page, and it was even older photos of her and her mother. Her as a child. None of them featured her father. “How's Morty?” She asked suddenly, concerned.

“Morty? He's fine. Still a little shit. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it's just… you spend more time with him than I do these days. Is he okay? Like actually okay?”

Rick hesitated, and the worst ran through Beth's mind. Morty wasn't okay. He was miserable, and depressed, and isolated, and a billion other things he shouldn't be, and it was all her fault, and she hadn't even noticed, and oh, God-

“Hey, hey, don't cry. I told you he was fine. What's- what's going on? What happened? Did he say something?”

“No!” She sobbed. “He doesn't talk to me! And I - I - I don't talk to him!”

“Beth. Look at me.”

She looked up at her father through her tears, and he reached up and wiped away the tears with his thumb. “Morty is fine. Trust me. Just fine.”

“He's in therapy. That's not fine. You know he asked me to go see that Dr. Wong again? I almost told him no. That's how awful I am.”

“But you didn't. And shit, Beth, tons of kids are in therapy. Who knows what's going on with him. But it's nothing serious.”

Beth blinked away the stinging sensation in her eyes, calmed by her father's words. “You really don't think so?”

“Beth, honey, I'd tell you if it was serious.”

She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, which he reciprocated after a few long moments.

“I'm so glad you're in our lives again, dad.”

 

X

 

The universe was a crazy, chaotic place, and the only way to have any modicum of control over it was to be even crazier and more chaotic. Rick knew that. But he wasn't so sure that was he was doing fell under that category. He also wasn't sure it mattered.

He felt more toxic than he ever had, and that was saying something. Contrary to popular belief, he had self awareness about the way he lived his life. It wasn't that he didn't know better, it was that he didn't care. Not caring was pretty much a staple of his personality at this point. But he cared about this.

He cared about Morty.

To some degree.

Enough that after Morty left, he headed straight to the shower and scrubbed until his skin was raw, as if he could wash away what was happening to him. This was his daughter's son. This was his flesh and blood, his legacy, and what was he doing? Same thing he always did. Fucking it up.

He was good at a lot of things. He could invent a way to travel through dimensions. He could create anything the most respected scientists could in less than half the time. He could drink like a motherfucker, and put up a fight like a rabid animal. He could fuck like a god and create entire worlds even better than one. But when it came to emotions? He could use a little saving from himself.

Worst part was, he couldn't identify when he started feeling this way. There wasn't any one moment where he went from viewing Morty as a useless child to… whatever he saw Morty as now. It happened so gradually he didn't even notice it, and then Morty kissed him, and it was like accidentally discovering a new element while just trying to mind his own business. It was intrusive and unwelcome, but also ground breaking and life changing. But he wasn't going to win any awards for discovering he had feelings for his fucking grandson. Not much renown for that.

He looked his daughter in the eyes and told her nothing was wrong with him. It wasn't the first or last time he'd lie to her, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth all the same. There was definitely something wrong with Morty. There was something wrong with him, too, but that wasn't the point. Morty started it. Morty was the problem.

Rick just had to spell it out for him. They were related, they were nothing more than that. Wouldn't ever be more than that. 

 

X

 

“Hey, Morty, how- what are you doing?”

Morty looked up from his laptop. Rick was standing in his doorway, looking uncomfortable.

“I'm taking this online quiz, one of the personality ones. You should take it, Rick, it's fun.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“Awww, come on, it takes like, like ten minutes. And then it tells you all about your personality and stuff.”

Rick went into Morty's room and pulled up a chair next to his bed. He leaned over and looked at the page pulled up on the screen. “Myers-Briggs online tests are about as accurate at determining your personality as your zodiac sign, Morty.”

“It's just for fun, Rick, you don't have to analyze it too hard like that.” Morty exited the test and pulled it up again, handing the laptop to Rick, who scanned the first few questions and groaned.

“Just for fun,” Morty reminded him gently.

The test took less than Morty's estimated ten minutes for Rick, and he scoffed when he got his result, and handed the laptop back to Morty.

“Great. ENTP. ‘The Debater'. Whatever that means.”

“It tells you what it means!”

“Listen, Morty, I- I don't need some online test to tell me who I am, and neither do you. Quit trying to sell me snake oil.”

“It's not snake oil if it works,” Morty said, clearly offended, but he closed the laptop regardless. “You're in a bad mood.”

“I'm not in a bad mood, I just live in, you know, the real world? What was your result, anyway?”

“ISFP. The Adventurer.”

“The Adventurer,” Rick mused.

“See? It's right some of the time.”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, do you want a ride to school?”

Morty shrugged. “It's either you or my dad.”

“Didn't answer the question.”

“Yeah, I just need to get dressed first, hold on.” Morty headed over to his closet and debated for a moment before deciding on, shockingly, a yellow shirt and a pair of jeans, and stripped off his pajamas. Rick was hyper-aware of the fact that he hadn't been asked to leave for this process, but by the time he tore his eyes away from Morty's thin frame and stood to leave, it was over and Morty was heading for the door as well.

Halfway through the drive to the school, Rick cleared his throat and glanced over at Morty.

“Listen, Morty…”

“Yeah, Rick?” Morty looked over at him, unsuspecting and naive as ever.

Rick shifted in his seat and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “This… thing, that's been happening…”

Morty's eyes betrayed a hint of worry, but Rick powered through it. This was for the best.

“It can't happen anymore.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I just- you're a kid, you don't know what you want, you don't realize-”

“-not this again, Rick-”

“-yes, this again, Morty. You're playing with fire here. You don't realize how dangerous this is- could become.”

“Do you seriously not think I've thought about it? I have, Rick!”

“Then you know you're putting me in a bad spot. I'm- listen, I've made some shitty choices, but this takes the cake, you know that? I shouldn't have ever laid a hand on you like that.”

Morty laughed bitterly. “So you can push me around all you want but you can't be nice to me.”

“Is that what you think me being nice to you should look like? That's- that's the most fucked up thing I've ever heard. Nice is me taking you to play games, nice is me telling you you're a good kid, nice is… nice is me ending this before it gets out of hand.”

“You're full of shit, Rick.”

“You have no idea what you'd be in for. You don't have any idea.”

“So let me find out on my own!”

Rick growled in frustration. “You're asking me to hurt you.”

“No, Rick, I'm asking… I don't know…”

“Case in point. You don't even know what you want.”

“So what, what if you're right? Is it so bad to ask you to hurt me if it's just what you're going to do anyway?”

“Get out. We're here.”

“This conversation isn't over, Rick.”

“Yeah, I think it is.” 

 

X

 

The school day passed in a haze. Morty couldn't focus on a single thing other than Rick and their little conversation. He chose an unoccupied lunch table and sat down, not wanting to eat any of the food on his tray. 

Something had happened to make Rick change his mind about what they were doing, but he couldn't imagine what it could possibly be. He played through every interaction they'd had since he'd first kissed Rick at the party in his head, and came up with a string of question marks. There wasn't anything he'd said or done. Except maybe lay it on too thick about how important Rick was to him when they had that conversation in his ship, but that had resulted in Rick covering his neck in bitemarks, so it couldn't have been that bad. No, something external to him must have happened.

Did this mean that Rick wasn't going to take him on adventures anymore, or just that he didn't want to do anything physical? Was Rick going to leave for days at a time again? To go hook up with weird aliens? Or what? Morty's mind raced and didn't come up with anything positive.

Honestly, this should be a blessing in disguise. He'd performed the experiment, it failed, now it was time to move on. What he felt for Rick was wrong anyway.

But still.

It felt bad to be friendzoned, especially after already getting a literal taste of what could have started. And god, if it wasn't a good taste.

“Is this seat taken?” He heard Jessica ask him, and he blinked and looked up. There she was, standing at the other side of the table in front of him, alone.

“Nope.”

She sat down in front of him and gave him a look. “You aren't going to eat that?”

Morty shrugged. “Guess I'm not that hungry.”

“Something wrong?” She took a few french fries from his tray.

Again, Morty was faced with the dilemma of Truth vs Actually Reasonable Conversation. Again, he opted for somewhere in between. “Just… what do you do when the person you want to be with doesn't want to be with you? Or isn't good for you?”

“Oh, Morty,” she sighed sympathetically. “You shouldn't be with someone if they're not good for you. That's why I broke up with Brad. He was just too… volatile, you know? It's way better to be alone than with someone who hurts you.”

“Yeah, sure, but what if you want to be with them anyway?”

“I can't tell you what to do, but I'd say think about why you want to be with them in the first place if they're so bad.”

“It's not that they're that bad, it's mostly just that they don't want to be with me.”

Jessica flipped her red hair over her shoulder and shook her head. “Morty, if someone doesn't want to be with you, you have to respect that.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Is it somebody I know?” She asked.

“... Yeah,” he answered honestly.

“What's her name?” And then, sensing his hesitation, she lowered her voice and asked conspiratorially, “or… is it a guy?”

“Why would you think that!?” He asked, immediately on the defensive.

Jessica raised her hands in a placating gesture. “I don't know! It would be fine if it was! Anyway, it's fine if you don't want to tell me, I'm just curious.”

Morty looked down at his tray, and saw that Jessica had been stealing more of his food over the course of their conversation without him realizing. Not that he cared. He hadn't really thought of himself in terms of labels of sexuality. Was he bisexual? Or was Rick just the exception that made the rule? He couldn't think of any other males that he felt much attraction to.

“Hey, I was wondering, do you want me to come over again after school sometime? For math?” Jessica continued.

“Sure,” Morty said, brightening at the change in topic. “You could come over today. Or any time, really, I think my parents like you.”

“I like them too,” she said, smiling. “You've got an interesting family.”

Morty snorted. “Yeah, interesting.”

“It's not a bad thing,” she reassured him. “My parents are really boring.”

“Yeah, I guess nobody else's family would bug you in the middle of the night just because one of their adventures went bad and they wanted your help.”

Jessica laughed. “Oh, Morty, you should have heard the voicemails he left me. It was so funny. I mean, annoying at the time, but funny now. He really wanted you back. It was… sweet? In a way?”

“I'll give you five bucks to never call him sweet ever again,” he joked.

“No, really! He cares about you, Morty. It is sweet.”

“He cares about himself,” he countered.

“Do you want to listen to the voicemails? I think I still have them on my phone.”

“No!” He said, too quickly. “I mean, I just. I don't really want to talk about him right now.”

“That's fine,” she said. “So, tonight?”

“Tonight,” he agreed.

 

X

 

Surprisingly, Rick was at dinner that night. Morty had fully expected him to run off somewhere and not see him again for days. He came in after everyone else was already seated and halfway through eating, took the unoccupied seat next to Morty, and decided to greet Jessica before anyone else.

“More math?” Rick asked, looking at her in the eyes as he pulled out his flask.

“Yeah, I got a C on my last test, so something must be working,” Morty answered for her, smiling.

“Oh boy, a C. You gonna- you should hang that one up on the wall, really, that's incredible. Should slow down there, take some time to rest on your laurels. Gotten a call from NASA yet?”

“Dad,” Beth said warningly, but Morty wasn't phased.

“Yeah, I did work pretty hard,” he admitted. “I don't know about NASA, Rick, maybe they're waiting until I get my first B. But- you know- I think I'll wait until I get accepted into all the Ivy League schools first, before I call them back. I don't- I'm not desperate or anything.”

Jessica laughed at his sarcasm, and Morty’s heart soared.

“When you go to Harvard don't forget about us little people,” Summer said.

“I'll mention you by name in my valedictorian speech,” Morty said, unable to keep himself from laughing, and soon everyone was laughing as well.

Except for Rick.

“Very nice. Very funny,” he said, and stretched out his legs, accidentally brushing against Morty's. He immediately shifted again, but not before Morty sharply inhaled at the contact. Rick drank from his flask and then glared down at Morty. “Real comedian.”

“First comedian to work for NASA,” Morty mused.

If Rick wanted to get under his skin, he'd have to work a lot harder. He'd already done everything he possibly could. Called him every name under the sun, insulted his intelligence, put him in danger, left him, fucking broke up with him essentially, and now he thought he could have a win by making fun of his success, even if it was a small one?

Morty thought the fuck not.

“Well, I'm done, if you're ready,” Jessica said. Perfect timing.

“Yeah. I'm done too.”

 


	8. day six

It wasn't as if it was a relationship. It was a few kisses and a feelings talk. That's it. So Rick couldn't tell why he still felt like utter shit. He felt like shit doing it, he felt like shit not doing it, he just felt like shit. It was inescapable apparently. Smartest man in the universe, can't even figure out how to keep himself happy. Gold star.

And if he decided to go on a week long bender of drugs and alcohol to help him figure shit out, it's not like it was going to shock anyone.

Day one started with him deciding to get blackout drunk while Morty and Jessica studied together upstairs. He could hear Jessica giggling all the way downstairs, probably about something stupid, and the sound was like nails on a chalkboard to him. If anyone had anything to say about him drinking vodka straight out of the bottle, they kept it to themselves. By the time they came back downstairs he was most of the way through the bottle, and promptly finished it after witnessing Jessica give Morty an overly familiar hug before leaving.

“You two are so cute together,” Rick had said, hovering over Morty after the door had closed. “Real- real fucking cute.”

“You're drunk,” Morty acknowledged.

“Bitch, get- get on my fucking level,” Rick replied, flipping him off with the hand that wasn't holding the bottle.

“We're talking when you sober up.”

And that was about the time Rick decided he wasn't going to sober up. Something inside him felt lit on fire at the idea of having yet another emotionally charged discussion with Morty, like he'd equally rather die than have it happen and would kill just to have it happen. It was physically uncomfortable, and led him straight into day two, in which he decided to add drugs into the mix.

Up at four in the morning, mixing together shit he had on hand in his garage to get him high, anything to take off the edge of anxiety that kept flaring up at the idea of Morty trying to talk to him. Time slowed down and sped up simultaneously, and then he was on day four, having not left the garage, shooing away anyone who tried to check up on him by throwing random glass bottles at them until they gave up and left.

Day five, he was convinced he would never come down (or up?) from where he'd found himself, and was satisfied he'd never have to face Morty, or anyone else, ever again. He could finally die satisfied. He'd had a good run.

Day six, he decided all of that was bullshit, and he'd never die, he was immortal, he was a fucking god, and most of all, he was going to confront Morty himself, show him exactly what he meant when he said that what Morty wanted was dangerous. He was a force of nature, a fucking hurricane and volcano and tornado all in one, and Morty was going to feel it.

But when he'd hyped himself up enough to finally emerge from his crime scene of a garage to go do exactly that, he couldn't find Morty. He wasn't downstairs, wasn't in his room, and the clock in the kitchen read 5:38, so he couldn't be at school. And worst of all, he wasn't answering any of Rick's calls to his phone, of which Rick decided to make twenty eight of. Could he be with Jessica, maybe? For good measure, he called her phone fifteen times, and she didn't answer once.

He didn't know where the fuck Morty could be, all he knew was that he needed to find him before he lost his nerve. 

 

X

 

Morty felt back to square one, anxiously sitting in Dr. Wong’s office, hoping for answers he'd actually like to hear.

“He broke it off,” he'd said as soon as he sat down at his usual spot on the couch. “He said it couldn't happen anymore basically because I'm just a dumb kid and I don't know what I want and that I'm playing with fire or something like that.”

“Why do you think he did that?” Dr. Wong asked innocently, looking at him from over her glasses.

“Because he's a sociopath,” Morty spat, and then recoiled at his own cruelty. “Well, I mean, it's just that he pretty much led me on. He made me feel like… I don't know…”

“Like what, Morty?”

Morty chewed at his lip. “Like there was something there. Or that there could have been. And he didn't even give me a chance to respond to anything, he just shoved me out the door and the next time I had a chance to talk to him he was completely drunk, and there's- there's no talking to him when he's that wasted. He's been drunk for days, actually, I tried to talk to him again before we came here and he just shattered a glass beaker above my head and told me to get the fuck out.”

Dr. Wong nodded. They shared a moment of silence together, which felt surprisingly companionable, until she finally asked, “is he usually violent when he drinks?”

“It's more like he's usually violent regardless of if he drinks, because he's kinda drinking all the time, but when he gets totally drunk it's usually that he gets so wrapped up in himself he doesn't think about other people. Even less than usual.”

“Do you plan on talking things over with him later?”

“Yes. I have to. I have to say what I need to say, and I… I feel like… like he's just acting out because he doesn't want to hear it.”

“This angers you,” she noted.

“Yes! I can't stand when he gets like that.”

Dr. Wong scribbled something onto her notepad, and looked up at Morty intently. “Morty, last time we saw each other, we agreed that you'd come up with some goals for our sessions. Have you given that any thought?”

Morty looked at the floor sheepishly. In all honesty, he'd given it zero thought. It was hard to focus on anything other than Rick, and whatever he happened to be feeling in the moment.

“I'm not getting any sleep,” he said, changing the subject, hoping she'd go along with it and not press the issue further.

Dr. Wong wrote something else down. “How often do you get a good night's sleep?”

Morty laughed bitterly. “A good night's sleep? Never. I just get a few hours here and there.”

And it was true. Sometimes he'd stay up until nothing felt real and his eyes burned with the need to close and stay closed, but it just never happened. Alcohol helped, but only if he just drank enough to feel sleepy and then stopped. Which, the past few nights, he'd just kept drinking right past that point and gotten properly drunk. Not that he was about to admit that out loud. Not after just finishing complaining about Rick's drinking.

“I think it's the anxiety,” he continued. “I just get so worked up over everything that I can't turn my brain off.”

“Have you ever considered medication for it?”

“I, uh, I don't think that my parents would like that. Rick especially wouldn't.”

“I didn't ask if they'd thought about it,” Dr. Wong said gently.

“Right. Well, no, I haven't thought about it, really.”

“I can write you a prescription for an anti anxiety medication, if you're open to the idea. You don't have to suffer needlessly.”

Morty hesitated. As much as he liked the idea of a drug that could take away his anxiety, he knew that he might get endless shit about it from everyone unless he begged his mom to keep it a secret between just the two of them, which wasn't even a guarantee she'd keep up her end of the deal indefinitely. But then again, Dr. Wong was right. He didn't have to suffer needlessly, and it was beginning to feel like that's all he was doing.

“Okay, I guess that would be okay,” he said slowly.

“Great! I'll send you with a prescription when you leave, then.”

Morty sighed. “What do you think I should do?”

“I'm not here to tell you what to do, Morty, only help you come up with tools so you can make the best decisions for yourself.”

“That's a cop out,” he joked, and felt vindicated when she gave him a smile in response.

“It's the truth, Morty. I'm a member of your support system, not a dictator. What do you feel you should do?”

And that, Morty supposed, was the problem.

He had no idea what he should do, only what he wanted to do. 

 

X

 

Thankfully, his mom didn't have any snide remarks about the prescription when he handed her the slip of paper with shaking hands. Dr. Wong had ushered her into her office when she came to pick up Morty, saying she needed to have a few words with his mom, and they both emerged a few minutes later, Dr. Wong looking pleased and his mom looking equal parts confused and insulted. He had no idea what had been said, but Beth was quiet the entire ride to the nearby drug store, and stayed quiet the entire fifteen minutes they waited for the prescription to be filled. It wasn't until they got back into the car and buckled up that she looked over at Morty, a million questions showing in her eyes. But she only asked one.

“Are you sure you need this?”

Morty fidgeted with the seatbelt. “I guess so. She said it could help. Especially with sleeping at night.”

Beth nodded. “Okay. Morty?”

“Yeah, mom?”

“... Nothing. It's nothing.” She shook her head and put the car in reverse, pulling out of their parking space.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Could this… you know… stay between us? I just don't want anybody finding out, especially not Rick.”

“Of course, Morty,” she said. “I won't tell anyone.”

“Not even dad?”

Beth laughed, as if the notion of her telling Jerry was absurd. And, on second thought, Morty guessed it kind of was.

“Not even dad,” she agreed.

The rest of the drive home was uneventful, and once they got home Morty made a beeline to his room, intending on opening up the package and diving right in to his new bottle of pills to take them for a test drive. Maybe he'd even fall asleep. But he jumped when he turned on the light of his bedroom, seeing Rick sprawled out on his bed.

“R-Rick!”

Rick groaned in response. “Turn that fucking light off, would you?”

Instinctually, Morty immediately flipped the light switch back off, leaving them in darkness again. And then he mentally kicked himself for following Rick's orders so quickly, but he left the light off.

He carefully made his way over to his desk, gingerly setting the package down so it wouldn't make any noise. The absolute last thing he wanted was for Rick to start asking questions about what he had in his hands. Morty took a seat at the edge of the bed.

“So…” Morty started, but then found that he didn't have anything in mind for where he wanted the sentence to go. In his mind, all of the instances in which he had it out with Rick he was the instigator, and he had to corner Rick somehow. He wasn't expecting to come home to him in his bed.

“You weren't answering your phone,” Rick growled accusatorially.

Morty looked over at Rick, confused, and Rick rolled over, shoving his face into Morty's pillows. Morty pulled out his phone to see forty eight missed calls, all from Rick. Shit.

“Sorry, it was on silent,” he said, his mouth going dry.

“Where were you?” Rick asked. His voice was muffled by the pillows, but Morty could still pick up on his demanding tone.

“Therapy.”

“Oh.”

“Are you... still drunk?”

Rick rolled over again and looked up at Morty. “No. Just high.”

“Just high!?”

“Come here,” Rick said hoarsely. He shifted in the bed just enough to leave a Morty sized space at the edge of the bed, and Morty didn't need to be told twice. He laid down next to Rick on his side so they were facing each other, and his breath hitched when Rick pulled him close in a tight hug. He reeked of booze and something else Morty couldn't place, something almost sweet. The moment was short lived, though, and Rick pulled away again, leaving them just staring at each other in the dark, saying nothing.

“You're a real asshole, you know that?” Morty said, barely above a whisper.

“Yep,” Rick whispered back. Not a trace of regret in his voice.

“I'm going to talk and you're not going to say anything until I'm done, okay?”

Rick said nothing, and Morty took that as his cue to begin.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes before starting. “I know you think I'm just a stupid kid and I don't know what I want, but you're wrong. I know you, okay? I know what I'd be in for. I know you better than a lot of people. Maybe not better than anyone, I don't know, but I know you well enough to know who you are. You're a dick and you're dangerous or whatever and you're awful to everyone, including me, and it's not even like I'd expect that to change. I'm not asking for you to change. All I wanted was you, in like, a general sense, I guess. And I thought you understood that. You've made sure that I knew that I'm all yours every chance you get, always dragging me around everywhere, making me do shit, all I wanted was for you to be mine too. And I don't get what's so bad about that. If I'm stuck with you, why can't you be stuck with me too? What's so bad about it? You might have to actually care? Well guess what, Rick, I already know you care about me, so the cat's out of the bag. I don't care about getting hurt, because the only thing that really hurts anymore is not being able to do this. You cut things off before they even begin and you just let me try to deal with it all on my own and it's bullshit, because I know I'm not actually alone in this. You're just being you again. But this time I'm not gonna let you get away with it. So tell me the truth, Rick, what's the worst that happens? Because anything I can think of, it would be worth it. Because nothing makes me feel the way you do.”

Rick let out a low whistle. “Are you done?” He asked.

“Well… yeah. Yeah, I'm done.”

“Okay. First of all, nice speech. Did you plan that, or was it ad lib?”

“Are you serious!?”

Rick grinned. “Yeah, I'm serious.”

“Ad lib,” Morty snapped. “Do you have anything else to say?”

“Yeah, I do. What's your endgame? Do you have a plan for if and when we get caught? Do you care at all about how it might affect, I don't know, everyone around you? Or are you just so wrapped up in your hormones you don't give a shit? I'm too old for this shit, Morty.”

“Yeah, but not too old to get drunk and high and call me a billion times and come into my bed.”

“Not answering my questions, I see.”

Morty gritted his teeth. “I don't have an endgame and yeah, sure, you're right, I don't have a plan for anything, I guess I am just too ‘wrapped up in my hormones’ to give a shit. But I give a shit about us, which is more than you can say.”

“Don't make assumptions.”

“Yeah? You give a shit? Since when?”

“I'm here, aren't I? I could be doing about a thousand other actually productive things, you know.”

“If it's not productive, that's on you, Rick.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Okay, so what do you propose we do? What does this look like to you?”

“I was kind of hoping to figure that out with your help,” Morty sighed. “I don't have all the answers, okay? I admit that. But it shouldn't just be on me.”

“No wrong answers,” Rick encouraged. “What do you want?”

“To kiss you again,” Morty said timidly.

“Other than that,” Rick scoffed.

“I don't know, okay! What are you willing to give me?”

Rick's eyes narrowed. “I'm not making up your mind for you. If you want something, you have to ask for it.”

“What I mean is that I want as much as you're willing to give me.”

“Not good enough. You need to say it.”

“Fine! I want everything, okay? I want to be able to make out with you again. I want you to be nice to me. I want you to give a shit about me, and actually show it more than once every six months. I want to know what it's like to be yours, okay? In more ways than just you pulling me out of school or making me shoot people for you or whatever else. I want it to be real. And not just all in my head. Because it's not just in my head, is it?”

Rick shook his head. “No. It's not just in your head.”

“So what's the hold up!?”

“It's not… it's not as simple as you make it sound, Morty, I'm not… it won't be easy for you. You think it will be, but it won't.”

Now it was Morty's turn to roll his eyes. “I think I can handle it. I don't care about consequences.”

“You really should. People don't get out of relationships with me unscathed.”

“I'm not people, and I don't plan on getting out.”

Rick didn't have an immediate comeback for that. Instead, he just stared at Morty with a vaguely impressed expression.

“Is that okay to say?” Morty asked.

“Only if it's the truth,” Rick said.

“It is,” Morty replied quickly. “I mean it.”

Rick sighed, and rolled over onto his back. “You have zero self preservation.”

“Guess I learned from the best.” And then Morty added, “so… what are you thinking?”

“That I've done enough thinking for the night. And probably the rest of my life.” Rick closed his eyes.

“So, that's a yes, then? We can do this?”

Rick didn't say anything. He rolled back over and draped an arm around Morty, pulling him close, eyes still closed.

Morty looked up at Rick, expecting a response, but as Rick's breathing evened out, obviously asleep, he realized he wasn't going to get one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is.......
> 
> an update!!!
> 
> yeah idk
> 
> shrug emoji
> 
> you could come say nice things about it
> 
> or, yknow, mean things. If you wanna. Or tell me what you had for breakfast. I'm not your supervisor. I just work here. Not even for money either. It's more like an unpaid internship. Except also nothing at all like that.


	9. promise

The first time Rick woke up, he became immediately aware of three things.

First, it was too goddamn early to be waking up. Sunlight had not yet begun to filter in through the window, which was his first indication, and a glance at Morty's alarm clock confirmed his suspicions. 4:12 AM.

Second, the cumulative hangover from damn near a full week of heavy substance abuse was well underway. It had been ages since he'd felt like he had to throw up, but there it was, nausea creeping in and leaving him dizzy even though he was laying down. His head spun and ached in equal measure, waves of sharp, stabbing pain attacking the front of his skull. All of this could've been avoided entirely if only he'd just been chill, but he felt like he'd lost all semblance of chill, and was losing more and more every second, leaving him in the negatives. He had a negative amount of chill.

Third, he'd become entirely entangled in Morty in his sleep. He had his legs between Morty's, and he was acutely aware of his arm wrapped around Morty's waist, keeping him close, his back pressed completely against Rick's chest. He could feel Morty's breaths, slow and even, and it was soothing to him somehow. He closed his eyes and tried to focus entirely on that breathing, and soon found himself at a place where he could fall asleep again.

The second time Rick woke up, the only thing he was aware of was that Morty wasn't there. 

Instead of his arm keeping Morty captive, it was just outstretched onto the empty bed, holding nothing. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, all of him aching, every inch of his body punishing him for his previous actions. With slightly shaking fingers he rubbed at his temples and let out a long, low groan that actually somehow seemed to help with the pain.

The alarm clock read 3:57 PM.

He'd been asleep for almost twelve hours.

Slowly, he laid back down on the bed and stretched lazily as the world and his own situation started to come back to him piece by piece. Morty had laid out some heavy shit last night, he knew that for sure. He was almost surprised he remembered the exchange as well as he did, that in all of his recreational activities he hadn't totally blacked out.

Morty wanted to be his, and vice versa. That's what it all boiled down to. He'd tried to stop things, gave it the old college try, and all he'd really done is prompt Morty to try harder, feelings monologue included. Things were not going to return to normal, if they'd ever had a “normal” in the first place.

And, remembering the taste and feeling of kissing Morty, of sucking on his neck until it bruised, of seeing and hearing the effect he had on Morty while barely even trying, he supposed…

Well, he was a bad person. He did bad things. He treated people awfully, Morty even admitted to that. He practically got off on being bad, and mean, and maybe most of all, in control. These things were not going to change, and he didn't even want them to at the end of the day. Truthfully, it delighted him to see Morty try to reason their relationship into existence with “what's the worst that could happen” and “I don't care about consequences anyway”. His skin might crawl, but he knew he couldn't keep running away from himself. It just wasn't sustainable. 

He'd known for a long time that his attachment to Morty was toxic. But for ages he'd just chalked it up to the fact that any attachment was irrational and therefore bad for him. But this was something else. Something significantly more than just 'I shouldn't care about you because you're replaceable’. It was more like 'I shouldn't care about you because there's no chance of successfully replacing you’. It didn't make sense. It was beyond rationalizing, as much as it stroked his ego to hear Morty try to do it anyway. At least with all of his previous engagements he could explain it away.

There wasn't any explaining the way he felt, but fuck if he wasn't going to try. 

 

X

 

Morty almost hadn't bothered to detangle himself from Rick that morning.

He'd woken up with just enough time to get up and get ready for school, but Rick was so warm and he could definitely get used to the feeling of waking up in his arms. For a few minutes that felt much shorter than they actually were, he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of Rick all around him, take in the fact that this was real, Rick was really laying next to him in his bed, really had his arms wrapped around him, really hadn't left him yet. He considered not moving ever, not until Rick woke up and forced him to get up, but he was filled with a nervous energy that led him to unwrap himself from Rick's arms and stand up.

When he started to pull away, Rick mumbled something under his breath that made Morty freeze, but he couldn't make out what it was until he successfully stood up and Rick repeated it.

“Morty?”

Morty stood perfectly still, and whispered back, “yes, Rick?”

But Rick said nothing in return. He was still fast asleep. He'd just said Morty's name in his sleep was all, and Morty couldn't help but smile at it. It was cute. And moments where Morty found something Rick did to be cute were depressingly few and far between, so he savored the moment.

He changed out of yesterday's clothes into something clean, taking quick glances at Rick to make sure he was still asleep. And when Rick still hadn't moved by the time he was done changing, he decided he might as well go to school, confident that Rick wouldn't have ran away by the time that he got back. He wasn't sure why he was so confident of it, it was just some inexplicable intuition that maybe what he'd said last night had actually gotten through. Maybe it had actually made a difference.

He grabbed his backpack and almost left his room to go downstairs when the package on his desk caught his eye. His medication. He looked over at Rick, still asleep with zero indication of waking up any time soon, and slowly unzipped his backpack to make the smallest amount of noise possible, and placed the package inside delicately, as if it was a bomb that might detonate at any moment. His paranoia made him stare at Rick the entire time he did so, heart hammering with fear of that being the moment he'd wake up. But he didn't, and Morty zipped his backpack back up and headed out the door, closing it behind him carefully.

Once he got to school, he realized he probably shouldn't have even bothered. All he could think about was Rick, and whether or not anything was going to change in his favor. By the time math class came around he considered walking straight out the front doors instead, back to Rick. The comfort he felt when he first woke up had evaporated, and was swiftly being replaced by a sickly uncertainty of every aspect of his life, the kind of existential crisis that left him staring out the window blankly, mind both racing and just filled with static.

“Morty?”

“Huh? What?” He looked up to find the entirety of his math class looking at him, and Mr. Goldenfold looking less than pleased.

“Good to know you've been paying attention, Morty,” Mr. Goldenfold said, and waves of laughter at his expense erupted around him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Can I go to the nurse? I'm not… I think I'm sick.”

Mr. Goldenfold waved him away. “Yeah, yeah, get on out of here,” he said, and turned back to the chalkboard at the front of the room.

Face burning from all of the unwanted attention, he grabbed his backpack and shakily walked out of the room to the empty hallway, and just kept walking. If his adventures with Rick had taught him anything, it was that you could get away with just about anything if you looked like you were just doing what you were supposed to be doing, so he straightened his back and walked with purpose right out the front doors of the school exactly the way he'd been daydreaming about.

And, surprisingly, it worked. Nobody paid him any mind, if they noticed his presence at all. Still, he didn't slow down until he was already blocks away from the school, and didn't breathe any easier until his house was within sight. It wasn't like he'd never skipped school before, but this time was different. It was of his own accord.

He wasn't shocked that no one else was home when he walked in. He opened the door to the garage, expecting Rick to be there, but he wasn't. Nor was he anywhere else downstairs. So he made his way upstairs, skipping every other step, mindlessly praying Rick would still be in his room.

And he was.

Still asleep in his bed.

Rick looked… different, asleep. Morty assumed everyone must look at least slightly different asleep than awake, but it was especially apparent with Rick. Awake, he always looked like he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, and resented every second of it. Like he'd just seen and been through too much, but wasn't about to tell anyone about any of it. But asleep, he was actually relaxed, and it made him look significantly younger, more approachable. And out of all the words to describe Rick, approachable was not on the list.

Morty stood staring at Rick for a few minutes, taking it in, until he realized he was being creepy as hell and, now embarrassed with himself, he left the room and slowly made his way back downstairs. He didn't really know what to do now. Now that he was home and knew for sure where Rick was his anxiety had lessened somewhat, but not enough. He needed clarity, confirmation of what was going to happen between them, but he wasn't going to get that with Rick still asleep. He was tempted to march himself back upstairs and wake Rick up, demand an answer one way or the other, but he knew that probably wouldn't be met with any amount of gratefulness from Rick.

He tried distracting himself with TV, but nothing could hold his interest. It was only after he'd been pacing back and forth in the living room for fifteen minutes that he remembered he had medication specifically for helping with these kinds of situations.

He tore open his backpack and rifled around in it until he found the package of his medication, and tore that open as well, pulling out the bottle and shaking out a single pill. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, and swallowed the pill. And he felt… nothing. No different. Then again, he wasn't sure how long they took to take effect, if they were even going to work at all. But just to be sure, he took out another pill and swallowed that as well. It's not like it was going to hurt anything. Right?

He settled into the couch again and turned the TV back on to something he could turn his brain off to, some kind of alien version of Maury, this episode featuring the typical lineup of “my teenager is out of control” and “my baby's daddy thinks he's not the father”. He sat there, not quite paying attention, and by the time the episode was over he was definitely feeling… something. Mostly he was feeling nothing, but in a good way. His head was fuzzy, and he found it difficult to focus on any one thing for too long, which wasn't entirely different from how he felt most of the time, but now it was accompanied by an almost sleepy peacefulness. Like everything was going to be okay. And even if it wasn't, it was still going to be okay, because he'd lost control of how to process things not being okay.

He stayed sitting there half watching the show for four full episodes until he heard Rick walking down the stairs, and he remembered why he was home in the first place, and he felt a jolt of anxiety that led him to switch off the television and look behind him to the stairs, but it left as quickly as it came, replaced by that same peacefulness.

“Morty,” Rick greeted, stopping short when he noticed Morty sitting on the couch.

“Rick,” Morty returned, and found that it was more difficult to talk than usual. But not impossible. It was mostly that he didn't want to talk. He wanted Rick to come sit next to him, and to curl up with him. But he found himself contradicting his own feelings before he could stop himself, saying, “we should talk.”

Rick sat down on the couch next to him just as Morty wanted, but he stayed a healthy distance away, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Which Morty did not take as a good sign.

“We should talk,” Rick repeated slowly. “You, uh, really did a lot of talking last night.”

“Yeah,” Morty said, feeling like he was underwater with the way his head was swimming. “I did. You didn't though.”

“If you're looking for me to give you some kind of speech, I don't have one.”

Morty shook his head. “No. Nope. Not a speech, speeches, they're. They're not. No. Just… just an… answer.”

Rick's eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk right now?”

“No?”

“You don't sound too convinced,” Rick said, tone accusatory.

Morty leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes. He felt like he was going to fall asleep at any second, and hated himself for it. Finally, he was talking to Rick, and he couldn't even keep his head straight. He knew it had to be his medication, but he still felt like he should have more control over himself.

“Just give me an answer,” he forced out. “Do you want me or not?”

Rick looked at him, equal parts bewildered and something else Morty couldn't really place. Something intense.

“Of course you'd think it was as simple as whether or not I want you.”

“Because it is. Do you want me or not?”

“Except it really isn't.”

“Rick. Do. You. Want. Me. Or. Not.”

“You fucking idiot, of course I want you,” Rick breathed.

Morty closed his eyes again, and breathed out a shaky breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding in. There it was. That's what he needed. He almost felt like he could cry from the relief, and, embarrassingly, he found himself blinking away tears, and then wiping them away with the back of his hand when he couldn't stop them from falling.

“Then don't make me go through this alone anymore,” he said, voice cracking.

“I want you,” Rick repeated. “I want… fuck, okay, okay, I want this, why are you crying?”

Morty couldn't answer, he just shook his head in response, and then threw himself at Rick. He wrapped his arms around Rick's waist and allowed himself to cry into Rick's shirt, unable to care about how embarrassing he was being. And, seconds later, he was rewarded with Rick holding onto him just as tightly, rubbing at his back in slow circles.

“It's okay,” Rick whispered. “I've got you. I'm not going anywhere.”

Rick then pulled away just enough to reach over and gently lift up Morty's face to meet his own. Morty sniffled and hastily wiped away the remaining tears on his face, and then looked up at Rick, eyes wide.

“I've got you,” Rick repeated, and Morty realized Rick wasn't looking into his eyes. He was looking at his lips.

Rick ran his thumb along Morty's lower lip and Morty felt helpless, unable to move or look away from Rick's eyes, which were darkening in a way that made his heart beat faster until he could feel his heartbeat throughout his entire body. Rick leaned down, agonizingly slowly, until their lips were almost touching, but held himself back from going any further, his breathing coming out hot and uneven. Morty wanted to fill the fraction of a distance between them, to meet Rick all the way, but he soon didn't have to. Rick moved forward sharply, pressing his lips against Morty's.

Breathless, Morty returned the kiss, and reached out to place his hands around Rick's neck, which Rick clearly approved of, if him deepening the kiss and grabbing a fistful of Morty's shirt was any indication. Slowly and needily, Morty met Rick's lips with his own again and again, until Rick bit down on his lower lip, softly at first, but then pulling at it with his teeth with a reckless force that made Morty gasp. His hands found themselves entangled in Rick's hair, and he pulled at it experimentally, and Rick rewarded him with kisses all along his jawline and down to his neck, where Rick began to suck at a spot right above his collarbone.

It wasn't as if Morty hadn't been aware of how much he'd been missing out on, but finally feeling Rick all around him again, it was like everything was coming together again, and he needed it to never stop. His mind was in a haze, and in it, it was like Rick was the only thing that was real. Everything else had faded away and he was left with the singular focal point of the feeling of Rick, his mouth working at Morty's neck, hands pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” Morty breathed, and he could feel Rick smile against his neck.

Rick released his teeth from Morty's neck and kissed at the spot he'd been sucking on, and pulled away. Morty saw the opportunity to kiss Rick again and took it, placing his hands at the back of Rick's neck and pulling him forcefully down to his level, and Rick started laughing through the kiss.

“What's so funny?” Morty asked, unsure of whether or not to be offended.

“Just a little over eager, are you?” Rick asked. 

“Can you blame me? You- you could do anything to me right now and I'd let you.”

“Bold words.”

Morty desperately didn't want to be having any kind of conversation with Rick right now, he just wanted to keep kissing and touching and see where it went as long as he still had the chance.

“Why are we talking right now?” he whined, and Rick laughed again.

“Because it's fun to torment you,” Rick replied easily, but then returned to Morty's lips, giving him a series of long, slow kisses.

The sound of the front door opening and closing made them both jump, and Rick hastily pulled away from Morty, who moved backwards until he was on the other side of the couch. Rick grabbed the remote and turned on the television with ease, as if nothing had just happened. Morty, on the other hand, was trying and failing to control his breathing.

“Sup,” Summer greeted, casual and oblivious, coming around the corner and taking a seat at the armchair. She pulled out her phone, not looking at either of them. “Watching some Ball Fondlers?”

“Yuuup,” Rick drawled.

Morty tried to focus on the TV, but found it difficult to think about anything other than the taste of Rick still on his lips. He glanced over at Rick, and saw that Rick was already looking at him.

“We were just leaving, actually,” Rick said, and stood up.

Summer put away her phone. “Can I come?”

“No,” Rick said harshly. And then, somewhat gentler, “I- I think Morty and I have this one covered.”

“Aww, c'mon, I haven't done anything with you guys in forever! You know I can handle it.”

“He said no,” Morty piped up. “R-right, Rick?”

“Shut up, Morty, I wasn't talking to you,” Summer snapped.

“Both of you shut up,” Rick said.

Morty looked down at his feet in embarrassment until he felt Rick grab his shoulder and push him forward.

“I only need Morty right now. But you can come along next time, or whatever. Not because I give a shit, just because the sound of your bitching drives me nuts.”

“You promise?” Summer asked, unaffected by Rick's insults.

“Yeah, whatever,” Rick said, and hurriedly kept pushing Morty along until they were in the garage.

“She's so needy,” Morty complained once Rick shut the door behind them.

“That's really the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?”

“This is different,” Morty defended himself.

“Thank fuck for that,” Rick said, slamming the door to the ship closed behind him, waiting for Morty to climb in before continuing. “I couldn't deal with BOTH of you being so fucking thirsty.”

Morty fumbled with the seatbelt. “I'm not thirsty,” he said. “I'm just…”

“Yeah, I'll give you a minute to think of a better word here.”

“Don't be an asshole.”

“I'm not. It's not a bad thing. I happen to enjoy it.”

“Yeah? And what made you change your mind on that?”

Rick didn't immediately answer, and Morty began to wonder if it might've been too soon to ask something like that. But he felt he deserved to know what had happened in between the time Rick told him nothing could happen between them and what had just happened on the couch.

“I've always enjoyed it,” Rick said, but didn't elaborate.

“So… why try to push it away like that?”

“I don't know, Morty,” Rick said, suddenly defensive. “It's a real puzzle. May take days, even weeks to come up with an answer.”

“Yeah, okay,” Morty said sarcastically, but didn't have it in him to press any further. His emotional exhaustion was catching up with him, making his eyes feel heavy again.

“Just can't figure out why this might scare the shit out of me,” Rick continued.

“Yeah, well, you still kissed me,” Morty said, closing his eyes and settling back into his seat.

“I did.”

“So it must not scare you that much.”

“Guess not,” Rick admitted after a moment.

“So we're okay now, right?” Morty opened his eyes to look at Rick, who looked contemplative, staring out the windshield.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rick said. “We're okay.”

“And okay as in, this is a thing that is happening now?”

“Yes, Morty, this is a thing. That is happening. Right now.”

“And you're not going to randomly change your mind again?”

“Morty.”

“Don't ‘Morty’ me, I need you to promise.”

Rick sighed. “Yes, I… I promise. Now can we stop having this conversation?”

Satisfied, Morty nodded, and then finally allowed himself to close his eyes and drift out of consciousness. Rick had promised, and that was good enough for him right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there, beautiful. How you doin?
> 
> Figured I'd update for you.
> 
> Because I love you. :'D
> 
> I have to get back to my boring responsibilities again now, but y'all be good. Remember to drink some water.


End file.
